


Euphorila

by DarlingDearestDemonic



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bi-Curiosity, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Bottom Billy Hargrove, Bottom Steve Harrington, Confused Steve Harrington, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, Harringrove, Heartbreak, M/M, Mystery, Steve Harrington-centric, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-11-28 06:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20961899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingDearestDemonic/pseuds/DarlingDearestDemonic
Summary: A Harrington / Hargrove werewolf fic. There's a new werewolf in town and he has his eyes on Steve.





	1. Hide

**Author's Note:**

> It is I, the Sucker for Harringrove. This story couldn't have been made possible without the inspiration from a few outside sources (none of which are owned by me!)
> 
> \- if billy hargrove were alive and partnered with steve harrington - youtube video by DannyVids  
\- bad guy I billy hargrove - youtube video by hope- Cogito Ergo Sum Productions  
\- and the wild, sexy energy that both Dacre Montgomery and Joe Keery bring to these characters
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! This story takes place outside of the Stranger Things main plotline. Same time frame, different story. In this world, a werewolf is defined by a human who can transform into a full wolf every full moon. Notes on werewolf culture, history, and abilities will be included before every chapter. 
> 
> Point one: Unusually long, fast growing, 'flowing' or excessively curly hair is the most common sign of a werewolf nature (exceptions exist, though it's exceedingly rare.)

The first thing to come was a blanketing of the senses. 

It was the moment where the Wolf met the Man and the subsequent crossing of wires overwhelmed the human body. It happened only once, in the beginning, and when it did, it hit like a flashlight turned on an inch from the retinas.

“Are you feeling it yet?!”

As a werewolf aged, he learned how to manage his human reflexes during the stages of transformation. It was even possible for some werewolves to delay each individual stage. But Steve Harrington was young, so young, and all that he could do was let the transformation roll over him like a cold wave.

“Holy shit, dude…”

Happiness followed. It hung from his limbs like deadweights, enveloped the entirety of his body in a sudden heat that felt good and burdensome at the same time. He squirmed impatiently in the backseat, threw his arm behind his head, pulled it away, but nothing was making him comfortable. The car hit a sharp turn and he was thrown into the backseat window. Suddenly, and for no discernible reason at all, he began laughing uncontrollably. Dustin’s eyes flashed at him in the rearview mirror, his jaw slack in anticipation. Not without some difficulty, Steve raised his hand and pointed a limp finger at the front window.

“Dude, watch the road,” he slurred then began laughing again. Dustin’s eyes snapped back to the empty road ahead of them. Suddenly, he jerked the steering wheel to the right and sent the car careening to the side. 

“Wooooohoooo! Freedom!” Dustin screamed into the night. Emboldened by the lack of human presence, he jammed his foot on what he thought was the gas pedal. Suddenly the car screeched to a halt, sending them both flying forward. 

All was still for a moment until slowly Steve’s head emerged from behind the driver’s seat. He pressed his hand against his forehead and looked at Dustin who was guiltily scanning his face for blood.

“Are you at least wearing your seatbelt?” Steve asked. Dustin awkwardly reached over and snapped it into place. He then turned back and gave Steve two thumbs up, followed by a toothless smile. “Okay.” Steve yanked his chin towards the road before them. “We need to go.  _ Now _ , amigo, you’ve only got a short time to see this.”

Dustin twisted the key in the ignition and the car rumbled to life again. Soon they were weaving their way in and out of the lane as the darkened shapes of the hills rolled past them in a frenzied flurry. The heat hit Steve again, harder this time. He arched his back, clenched and unclenched his moist fingers. It was coming. It was coming so hard and it was burning him and freezing him in turn.

“You were supposed to tell me what it feels like!” Dustin yelled over the wind. He glanced in the rearview mirror and, upon seeing Steve hurriedly pulling his pants off in the backseat, muttered ‘gross’ beneath his breath.

“Well,” Steve said before spitting on the floor beneath his feet. His mouth felt as if it were full of cotton balls. Fingers flying, he removed his shirt then his socks, and finally his boxers. His watch he tore roughly from his wrist and flung to the seat beside him. His own words were beginning to make no sense to him. He had reached the stage where communicating in his human form had become as difficult as rubbing one’s belly and patting one’s head at the same time. He only hoped that Dustin would understand. “It’s like...you’re sitting in a hot tub...you been in one of those, right...and someone turned it on extra hot...but...it’s also like you’re eating the coldest, wettest, sweetest ice cream in the world at the same time...and it’s going through your body and it’s freezing your brain and making your veins turn into ice…and...and you’re getting a massage...” he laughed but it sounded more like a bark.

“So it’s like you’re high...right?”

If Steve were more capable of comprehension he would have asked how, exactly, did Dustin know how it felt to be high. But the truth was, he hadn’t told him everything. He couldn’t, and neither did he want to. The middle stage of transformation was much like the beginning stage of an orgasm. Waves of pleasure rode up and down his body, both electrifying and cooling at the same time. He felt as if he was receiving the best head in the world and as a result his cock began to harden and leak precum between his thighs. Then, the arrhythmia began, marking the final, and most intense stage of transformation. 

“Pull over! Pull over!” he gargled over a mouth full of spit. Already his teeth were beginning to lengthen as his tongue elongated and broadened. His nails snagged on the fabric of the back of the driver’s seat as he yanked the door open and flung himself out of the car. Once on the ground he kicked the door shut and threw his body against Dustin’s door.

“Listen to me, lock the door.” It took everything in him to look Dustin in the eye, to speak the language that was quickly fading from his memory.The human in him was falling fast into oblivion as the basic instincts of the animal became desperate to unfurl. He slammed his hand against the window and Dustin stared in fascination at the swollen palm and curling fingers. “Dustin, look at me. Don’t roll down the window, okay? Don’t unlock the door. Even if you see another human do not. Leave. The car. Like we talked about. Understand?”

“I understand.” Dustin mouthed from the other side of the window. “Steve!”

But it was too late. He gathered all of his remaining strength and flung himself as far away as he could. Then, there was the pain: a quick and terrible pain that ripped through his body like a storm. It was the pain of bones snapping, the body swelling, flesh being stretched to its very limits. The last image that the human Steve saw in his mind was that of his mother. She held her arms open to him with an understanding smile and the human in his mind ran to her, ran as fast as his smarting legs could and then…

The Brown Wolf shook its body free of its tension. Ripples rolled along its fur like white froth on the sea as he dug his claws into the earth. He stretched: first, his front legs then his powerful hind legs then, sensing a presence, he huffed, sniffed the ground, and glanced over his shoulder. There was an unfamiliar object behind him. Something was hiding there, something with bright eyes that were watching him.

He wanted to go to the thing, but slowly. He didn’t like the way that it watched him. But something in him - the other, more human part of him nestled deep within his psyche commanded him to leave the thing alone. The thing was familiar. The thing was a friend. He glared for a few seconds more, his brow furrowed and pupils constricted in distrust. A growl rose low in his throat and escaped through bared teeth and the thing that was watching him ducked, its bright eyes vanishing in the night.

Suddenly the Brown Wolf tossed its slender head and howled into the night. Before the crickets could respond, before the humans miles away in the town could raise their heads from their pillows in fright, before the echo of his song could bounce back he was off and running. His feet pounded the earth, forcing it to fly beneath and beside him. The night air was moist and pungent with the familiar scents: mossy water, rotting leaves, wet soil and, somewhere, the enticing smell of fresh blood. He forced himself to move faster, lowered his ears and extended his limbs farther until he was nothing more than a blur, a shadow of a thought moving through the night. He was hungry and he wanted to mate but more than anything...he wanted to  _ run _ .

So he ran, unaware of the time or the place, until he caught the tail end of a strange scent and skidded to a stop. Curious, he backtracked until he came to a tree whose fresh gashes emanated a sharp smell. He sniffed around the base, still reeking of his own past markings until…

His ears shot up and the fur on his back lifted. The tree bore markings of another and it was fresh.

He heard leaves crunching and spun around. There, before him, stood one of his own. An unidentified male wolf much larger than him. Its teeth were bared, its jaws trembled as he snarled at the Brown Wolf. Seconds later, others appeared and surrounded the Brown Wolf in a semicircle. 

The Brown Wolf lowered his belly the the ground and flattened his ears, his eyes trained on those of the unidentified wolf. The Brown Wolf was not a fighter but there was something about this wolf. It was sick. The Brown Wolf could smell the damp sweetness on its fur as well as the rotting rancicity spilling from its mouth. It was the sickness that made it want to fight, the sickness that made it shiver and left its gaze fixed. The human in the Brown Wolf wanted to rouse itself and take stock of the strange new situation, but it was still too early. The sun wasn’t due to rise for another few hours. 

The other wolves stood around them. Their eyes remained trained on the Brown Wolf as they waited for their leader’s first move. Even then, both the human and wolf within knew that there was too much to risk in fighting the unidentified foe. So slowly, so as not to spook his adversary, he lifted his back leg…

And the other wolf lunged. He clamped his jaws around the Brown’s Wolf’s neck and speared him into the ground. Then, in a move unfamiliar to their type, he dragged the Brown Wolf onto his back and braced his paws against his chest. This gave the unidentified wolf the upper hand as he swung his head back and forth, his teeth still sunken into Brown Wolf’s neck.

The Brown Wolf would have died then, had the human within not been awoken by the desperation of the moment. In a rare moment of collision, both Steve and the Brown Wolf were conscious at once, within the wolf's body. Steve was able to see through the Brown Wolf’s eyes and what he saw terrified him to his core. But he had to think. The other wolf's teeth were like poison nettles sinking further and further into his neck. Steve recognized the disadvantage of his wolf-body’s position but also the disconcertingly human-like nature in which the other wolf held him down. 

It was as if…

He realized suddenly that the other wolf’s belly had been left completely exposed. He kicked out with his hind leg and felt the unidentified wolf’s body give a jolt as his nails ripped through the exposed flesh. Immediately the grip was released from his neck and he twisted his body free. He was on his feet in less than a second. The winds whistled in his ears and the human within faded once more. There was only the Brown Wolf now, running to save his own life. The other wolves were no match as he had spent many moons running solo through these hills. That, and he had been given an especially slender body, unusually adapt to running at high speeds for long periods of time.

He ran and ran. He didn’t stop running until the air changed and tendrils of warmth began to unfurl across the land. The sun was rising and, though no human would have been able to discern it yet, he could see the glow on the horizon.

Transformation would begin soon. The Brown Wolf dragged his worn body to a rocky overledge overlooking Hawkins and let his belly flop onto the dusty ground. His neck throbbed and he nuzzled his fur curiously. There was nothing to be done then. He had to keep watch over his surroundings. No wolf wanted to be found close to the city’s edge but the one that attacked him was not a wolf like any other.

He rested his bloody chin on his paws, ears trained towards any sound that came his way.

Morning

Steve shuffled his feet across the dry ground, naked as the day he was born. The blood had long since dried, leaving a crusty wreath of red and brown around chest. He was weak and half blinded by the sun, as well as the strain of post-transformation. Dizzy, he sauntered along trail after trail until he spotted the outline of his own car in the distance. He wasn’t worried about anybody stumbling upon him in this state. They’d have to be dumb or ballsy to wander into the hills.

Finally, he reached the car. There was no sign of Dustin within so, eyes still squeezed shut against the sun, he fell limp against the door and knocked his knuckles against the window.

“Dustin!” No response. He swallowed painfully and tried again. “Yo, Dustin, you in there?”

“I’m here! I’m here!” Dustin’s head popped up on the other side of the window. “Oh my god, dude, what happened to you?”

“Open the door,” Steve rasped.

“Are you good? I mean...are you still a...?”

Steve swallowed again, shook his head. “Do I still look like one?”

“To be honest, you’ve always kinda-”

“Just open the door.”

Dustin reached back and unlocked the door to the backseat. Quick as a flash, he jumped out of the car and helped Steve find his way to the cushions. Steve moaned as his skin hit the cool faux-leather. He wanted to lie like that forever: him, the safety of the car, the comfort of the seat. Dustin jumped back into the front seat and twisted around to get a better look at him.

“Did you get attacked?!”

“Something like that.”

“Holy shit…”

“Hey, watch your profanity.” Gingerly, so as not to irritate his wounds,he began to pull his clothes back on.

“We need to get you to a hospital…”

“No!” Steve straightened up and glared at Dustin. “No hospitals. We’re gonna do what we planned, alright? You’re gonna park the car around the corner from that abandoned Chinese place, yeah? You’re gonna walk home from there and if your parents are awake, you’re gonna tell them that you snuck out to play that board game-”

“It’s called  _ Dungeons and Dragons _ !”

“ _ Dungeons and Dragons _ , whatever. You're gonna tell them that you were playing Dungeons and Dragons with your little friends and that you fell asleep. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Steve sat back with a sigh and pressed a hand against his forehead. The situation was no good,  _ naughty _ , negative. An image of the unidentified wolf’s eyes popped into his mind and he straightened up. Dustin was talking to him, a slight smile playing around his lips.

“What’d you say?” Steve asked as Dustin started the car.

“I said it was really cool, watching you transform and seeing you howl ‘n stuff. There was even a point where you looked right at me and then you growled and I freaked out so I had to duck down...You think I’ll look that cool when I start transforming?”

Steve smiled. He could still taste blood in his teeth. “Who knows. Hell, maybe you’ll look better, kid. Probably not though. Look, I know you can’t technically drive and all but just try not to kill us on the way home, please?”

Dustin giggled as he started the car. “Alright.” They were silent for a moment, both watching the road and Dustin’s awkward movements on the steering wheel. Then, as the Hawkin’s welcome sign loomed unceremoniously before them Dustin said the one thing that Steve had been trying not to think about.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“I was just thinking...If the Hawkins hills doesn’t have any other nocturnal canine predators...and you’re the only one that can still turn, consistently, I mean...who...or what attacked you?”

Steve stared at his own reflection in the mirror. He looked haggard and pale. The wounds on his neck had become puffy. Every time that he pictured the other wolf he felt anxious. The need to not understand, but to  _ remove _ the forreign presence was strong within him. And whether that was the human need, or the need of the wolf within he could not tell.

“I dunno ,” he mumbled, “I dunno.”

  
  



	2. ...Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that I'll be posting every Wednesday. This chapter will be the exception because I've been so excited to give you guys another taste. So, October 16th, be ready for chapter 3 in which two very special people meet. Thanks for the kudos, thanks for the comments, and I'm loving the hits!
> 
> Also, holy crap, y'all really exceeded the AO3's donation expectation by $100,000 +. Y'all are legitness.
> 
> Point Two: One's ability to transform will fade away as the human body ages.

“Let me get this straight...you want to do _what_?”

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, alright? But there’s something out there in the hills and whatever it was, it attacked me. It literally held me down so that it could tear holes in my neck. And I think it’s sick and possibly crazy. I don’t know but...I never...experienced anything like it before. I want to go back and find it, stop it before it ends up out here and, I don’t know, attacks someone-”

Right at that moment, Officer Powell knocked on the door and tossed Steve a suspicious look. Steve instinctively placed his hand on his neck where the injury sustained from the previous night was still throbbing and inflamed. 

“Hey Chief, Janine Smith said that her neighbor threw trash in her garbage again. She’s waiting in the other room.” He paused and then, “How you doin’ Steve? Stayin’ outta trouble?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Powell shrugged, gave Hopper a strange look and walked away. Steve waited until his footsteps had receded then leaned closer to Hopper’s desk. “I need to know if there’s a way to turn before the next full moon.”

Deputy Chief Jim Hopper stared at him for what seemed like an eternity then slowly ground the tip of his cigarette into the bottom of his coffee mug.

“You wanna turn before the full moon…”

“Well... _ yeah. _ ”

Hopper exhaled violently from his nose. His tone, when he responded, was gruff and full of fatigue. He had other things on his mind: the librarian that he had hooked up with just the other night, Janine’s pending tirade, the bottle of pills at home. “I can’t help you there.”

Steve threw up his hands and chuckled in disbelief. “You can’t or you won’t?”

“You’re right. Let me rephrase…” Hopper leaned forward. His chair squeaked in protest. “I won’t. Do you know who made up the myth about lycanthropy, kid? We did. Thousands of years ago our ancestors found that the best way to protect our way of life was to  _ lie _ and  _ slander _ . Let’s say that a little hot-headed werewolf, much like yourself, decided to get ballsy and expose himself to the world. The best way to undo the damage was to tell people that our way of living was a form of psychosis, a mentally unfit state where a person thought that they were some...fantasy creature from a legend. And it worked. No one will believe a kid who cries wolf and if it ever were to go too far, if any one of our kind tried to expose our truth to the world...” once again he stuck the cigarette into the mug, this time pressing so hard that the faint light died with a sizzle. He raised his eyebrows in emphasis. “What I’m trying to say is...don’t stick your neck too far out. I told you: go out to the big city, join a pack. Don’t spend your time hanging around here looking for trouble.”

“Yeah but I wasn’t looking for trouble, trouble found  _ me _ .” Steve said. He watched in dismay as Hopper sighed, stood up and placed his hat on his head. “Wait, seriously? You’re not gonna do anything? Whatever’s out there is sick, it wants to kill. You see what it did to me! That’s not normal for our kind!”

“You probably got attacked by a stray dog that got lost in the hills. It happens sometimes. Let it go, kid!”

“So why did you even bother becoming police chief if all you’re going to do is sit around when shit like this happens?”

Hopper froze. Unperturbed, Steve stood up and snatched his jacket from the chair. “You knew it was a thousand-to-one chance that four separate families ended up in Hawkins. You knew that somebody had to watch over us and make sure things didn’t get out of hand. But, oh no, here you are drinking coffee and settling complaints about someone throwing trash in someone else’s bin while I’m telling you there’s something out there that’s a threat to us...you know you’re still one of us, right, even if you can’t turn?”

With that, Steve threw his jacket over his shoulder and bullied his way out of the door. Hopper stood for a long time afterwards, just staring at the spot where Steve had been. The wheels in his mind were turning furiously, although his expression betrayed nothing but nonchalance. He didn’t like this. He had tried for so long to erase the memories. The images of his canine prime and his fatherhood now belonged to a happier, younger stranger. And yet, for a brief moment, talking to Steve had felt like talking to a jarringly clear image of his younger-self: a brash, heavy-haired young man ready to fuck and take over the world. And now…

His clothes felt tighter than ever and every once in a while his lungs were stung by a mysterious pain that doubled him over and kept him up all night. In the other room, Janine waited, oblivious to the workings of a world that scampered and grew fur and tore flesh when the moon was high. Steve was right: with the passing of his daughter, Chief Jim Hopper had lost the ability to transform but he was still a werewolf, damnit, and if Steve had to carry the burden - the mystery, tragedy, and twists - of their lifestyle then it was his duty as an elder werewolf to at least guide him through it.

He’d take the dogs to check out the hills. Their efforts combined with his could never amount to the pure instinct of a wolf but it was worth a try.

“Harrington!”

Hopper burst through the doors of the police station just as Steve was starting his car. Breathless, he lumbered to the driver’s side and dropped his hand on the window. Steve glared past him, one pale hand clutching the wheel.

“Yeah, I get it. I’m a hot-head who should move to the city before he destroys the lifestyle. Anything else?”

Hopper shook his head, still breathless. “You know the animals in these parts can get real crazy this time of year. Don’t wanna let them bite you or anything.” Hopper looked up at the sky, suddenly intent on scanning the clouds. “I heard Mrs. Wheeler makes a  _ mean _ apple pie.”

Steve stared at him, revved his engine. And was gone before Hopper could say anything else. 

* * *

“ _ Mrs. Wheeler makes a mean apple pie _ , my ass...Actually, I’d like to taste her apple pie.”

Steve yanked the steering wheel and flew around a corner. The pedestrians on the sidewalk paused and watched in fear as Steve tore through the town with a vengeance. Of course, Steve had neglected to tell Hopper about the others, the pack, but he hadn’t wanted Hopper to freak out. So much for  _ that _ . 

“Animals in this part can get crazy, yeah, I’ll show you crazy, buddy.”

He took one hand off of the wheel and scratched at his neck absentmindedly. The wounds had grown flaky and red by his constant rubbing. It wasn’t the pain that caused him to twitch and grasp at his skin but rather the need. The desire to turn was on him and he fiend for that sweet sense of relief like never before. It had only been his fourth moon but by now he had come to long for the transformation’s sweet touch in the way that a boy longed to fuck, to eat, to take a raging hot piss after hours of holding it in. 

But more than anything he wanted to know. His nose twitched as if plagued by a constant itch. He wanted to be able to smell again, to catch the faint scents drifting in the air. Something, or someone, unfamiliar was in his hills. He clenched his fingers, extended them with a sigh. He wanted to feel the pads of his paws punishing the earth again, he wanted to dig his nails deep into the ground and dig up...what?

The following day’s classes were like a vortex of minor irritations and restlessness. The girls  _ ooh _ -ed and  _ aah _ -ed at his flesh wound. The jocks nudged each other and laughed when he passed by in the hall.

“Hot night, Harrington?”

“Screw you, Tommy.”

The teachers peered at him over their glasses, shuffled papers extra hard when he walked into the class. They watched him when they thought that he wasn’t looking: braced for trouble and at the same time thrilled to witness his next play. But the Hawkin’s king was in no mood to deliver that day. Everything had become so boring: basketball, the news of the new students to arrive soon, even the girls in their cheerleading outfits who inched closer together and flashed him cool smiles when he passed. He spent the day staring from one window to the next, thinking. 

School couldn’t have gotten out soon enough. At the ringing of the last bell he was out of his seat and down the steps, running to his car. Various people called out to him, beckoning him to this party or that club or that date. He fumbled with his keys, dropped them, then threw himself into his front seat.

“Steve!” A female voice called.

No time. He was out of the parking lot in seconds, windows rolled all the way down in the hopes that the cool air would refresh him. But to no avail. Where to go? Home, to play twenty questions and suffer the oblivious probing of his parents? The hills, to search out things that his human form wouldn’t be able to pick up? He ended up at the theatre, stuffed popcorn into his mouth, felt nothing as a female classmate unzipped his pants with fumbling fingers and went down on him in the dark. After that, it was on to the next showing and the next until he wandered out of the theatre to find that the sky had grown dark.

9:13 pm. He kicked a pole on his way back to the car. Once inside he curled his fingers in his hair and cried out in dismay. He needed to do something or at the very least be with somebody who could take his mind off of everything for at least an hour or two. But who?

“Come on think, buddy, think.” And then it hit him.

Nancy. In a way she was still his girl, although not so much as of late.

Before any further thoughts could stop him, he was speeding through the streets again, his mind a distorted mirror house reflecting streetlights, blurred faces, poorly worded signs until…

He idled to a stop in front of the Wheeler’s residence. He turned the key in the ignition and in the following silence sunk low into his seat. The light from the TV flashed in the living room window and then there, one story above, was Nancy’s illuminated window. He saw her pacing back and forth. Her hands were moving as she spoke rapidly to someone - herself? Or maybe there was another person in the room. Slowly, he slid up in his seat, his brows creased in. She didn’t have many friends and she wasn’t one to talk in length to her family so who else could have been there with her?

“What the hell…”

He was about to slip out of the car when a loud thump at his window made him jump and hit his head on the car roof.

“Mrs. Wheeler?!”

Through the haziness that obscured his vision, he could just barely make out Mrs. Wheeler’s bouffant hair and drawn expression. She tapped furiously at the window and, shocked by his own alarm, he reached over and unlocked the door.

“I promised him I’d do it,” she said as she settled into the passenger seat. Steve watched in surprise as she retrieved a glossy box from her purse and pulled a cigarette out between her lips. Quick as a flash, she lit one with trembling fingers, took a drag, then violently flicked the lighter closed. “But only if there were conditions.” She stopped then and looked at him. An awkward moment of silence passed, and then she yelled, “Drive, Steve!”

Steve didn’t think twice. In a moment, they were flying through the sleepy neighborhood. The wind whipped her hair back and forth as she glanced over her shoulder and then out the passenger window, her lips parted over beautifully white teeth.

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“Don’t be silly.” She crushed the tip of her cigarette against the carton and struggled to squeeze it back inside. The sight of her ruby red nails and smooth hands turned him on and he shifted to adjust the growing hard-on in his pants. She paused, just long enough to examine his neck and then the surprised expression on his face. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really didn't want to do this. I’m a mother, I can’t even imagine what I would do if...but Hopper…well, he swears that you can manage. He has a lot of faith in you, that man.”

Steve snorted, took a left down the only road that seemed fitting at the moment. The Hawkin’s hills sign hung twisted and warped on its pole. Maintenance in the area had been long since forgotten. Mrs. Wheeler sighed, tented her fingers over her nose, then dropped her hands into her lap.

“I remember when I was young, I never really received the guidance that I needed. Not because it wasn’t there. I was wild and hard-headed and so excited to experience this thing that not many people had. So I ran away for a while, joined a pack of other werewolves my age.” She laughed uncomfortably and ran her pointer finger beneath her eye. When she withdrew it, it was smeared with mascara. “We didn’t know what we were doing because none of us listened. We just...found ourselves in the woods and...a lot of bad things happened to the people around me. All because we didn’t know better. Our kind can be very...unforgiving.”

Steve didn’t know what else to do, so he just nodded and tapped his finger on the steering wheel. 

“So I came here. Settled down. Decided to wait out my time and promised myself that I would eventually forget. I started a family and spent the next few years waiting in fear, looking for signs in all of my children. And, thank God, I found nothing. And then one day Jim came to me and said, ‘Karen, that Harrington boy’s got it.’”

It was happening again: the itch, the hunger, the lust. He didn’t know where she was going with it or what they were doing on the road so late. Part of him was worried that maybe, just maybe Mrs. Wheeler had lost her marbles and he would have to find a way to untangle himself from it all. The other part? Well, the other part hoped that she was just crazy enough to be a cougar.

A boy could hope.

She picked up her cigarette pack and began to tear absentmindedly at the paper. “And when he told me that, I just thought to myself, ‘that poor boy.’ Your family hasn’t seen a werewolf in generations and then suddenly, here you are, facing the world alone in a town as barren as Hawkins.” She sighed, shifted uncomfortably. “And then Jim, he says to me today, ‘the boy thinks he found something in the hills’ and I thought to myself: what kind of person would I be if I let you go through this alone? If something’s out there, its presence is going to drive you insane. You’d have to seek it out eventually, it’s in our nature. We’re the predators, Steve, not the prey. And you’ll have to find it, for your sake or for the town’s. Jim and I will just have to be with you one hundred percent of the way. He may not be able to turn, and my time is coming, but we’re still the only ones that you have.”

Steve hadn’t even realized that he had brought the car to a stop. Below them, the lights from the town winked lazily, besides them the shadows of trees guarded the rising hills: hills that rose higher and higher into the night and then for miles beyond, eventually bordering other, unnamed cities too far to even be of a concern in their world. She was so close that he could smell her rosy perfume, see the powdery cracks extending from the corners of her beautiful eyes. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he struggled to find a place for his eyes to rest. She leaned in close to him and he instinctively flinched back. He didn't want her to see how scared he was of her just then, how confused their meeting had made him. Her presence then awoke in him not the wild, brash wolf of the night, but a weak, furless suckling that needed a mother.

“Give me your wrist.”

Silently, as if possessed, he rolled his sleeve to his elbow and held his wrist out to her. Without hesitation she leaned forward and sank her teeth into his flesh.

“Mmph! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” It took everything in him not to pull away as her teeth pierced his skin like little needles. Curtains of curly hair fell forward and obscured her face. Suddenly she reared up and wiped his blood from her mouth with the back of her hand.

“It’ll happen quickly, so pay attention. This transformation is different. Your body will change but your mind won’t. Do you understand me, Steve? You’re going to be conscious throughout. It’ll take some getting used to at first but eventually you’ll adjust.” Steve’s vision was swimming. Colors were exploding before him. Saliva gushed from beneath his tongue and dripped onto his clothes. With one hand he fumbled with the zipper of his pants and with the other he reached out to touch her face, a blonde silhouette before him. 

“I want you, Karen,” he gargled through an elongated snout. She caught his hand gently and pressed it against his thigh. Tufts of hair were beginning to erupt from his skin, his nails dragged against the fabric of his jeans. The sound of it bothered him.

“No. You don’t want me.” He reached for her again and she twisted away from him. “It’s the bite. It heightens your sense of euphoria and lust -” she braced her knees against his chest and forced him out of the car. He sprung up but he was too late. She had already shut and locked the door between them. Her breath fogged up the glass as she watched him writhing and giggling on the ground. “_Euphorila_, we used to call it. Steve?” Her lips trembled as she tapped on the window. “I have to go. But I’ll be back for you in the morning. Remember: you still have a human mind. Whatever it does, doesn’t. Use that to your advantage if you have to!”

But Steve was no longer listening. Legs trembling, he swung and weaved his body around the trees. His vision shifted between hyper-focused and unfocused as his pupils experienced rapid contractions. The smells of the world around him were too strong and there were too many. A rabbit rustled in the bush to his left, the sound of water trickling somewhere was deafening, and beyond grass shivered thunderously in the wind.

_ Mrs. Wheeler, _ he tried to call but his voice came out as a strangled yelp. He shook his heavy head, braced his paws against the ground, then heaved helplessly.  _ Karen,  _ he tried to call again but this time it came out as a drawn-out howl that surprised him and silenced the nightlife surrounding him. 

He stood there, swaying slightly, his wet nose twitching. He growled low in his throat, shook his head, felt his ears slap his skull.

_ Woah,  _ he thought to himself and then,  _ hellloooooo.  _ His human thoughts were like faint echoes in a canyon. He steadied himself , looked at his paws, and it was then that he realized that he was in his wolf form. Ecstasy burst through him then and he bounded forward. He was still wobbly on his feet but, by god, he was running. Faster and faster he went, reveling in the feel of the twigs and branches that slapped his hide as he rushed by. His tongue swung wildly from his jaws and he drew it in just long enough to inhale and then exhale a joyous howl into the night. He felt invincible. Every human command was followed by a canine reflexive response.

And then he remembered. His purpose came to him slowly. He was out there to find someone or something. Resolved now, he forced himself to stop and lifted his nose in the air. He sniffed and sniffed until he caught a faint scent. Faint, but it could have been something.

And so he flattened his ears, lowered himself to the ground, and began his hunt.

* * *

_Morning._

Mrs. Wheeler was in the exact same spot as the night before. He covered his privates with one hand and awkwardly waved at her with the other. When she caught sight of him walking towards her she jumped, ashed her cigarette, and held a bundle of clothes out the car window.

“Are you okay?” She asked, shielding her eyes.

“Yeah, just…”

“Thirsty, I know.”

Quickly, he pulled his pants on and accepted the bottle of water that she held out to him. He felt her watching him from beneath her palm, checking his body for wounds. Her mouth was twisted in a strange grimace, eyes narrowed to slits. He finished chugging the water and slid clumsily into the passenger seat. She continued watching him as he put on his shirt, ruffled his hair and adjusted his belt.

“Really, I’m fine.” He said. She sighed, shook her head, and twisted his keys in the ignition. They drove for a while in silence. Her eyes remained glued to the road while he stared dazedly out the window. If she was feeling awkward about his advances from the previous night she didn’t show it. And he prayed to God that he wasn’t showing it either. But nonetheless, something needed to be said to break the quiet spell between them so he gestured weakly at the cigarette in her hand.

“Didn’t know you smoked-”

“Steve, did you find anything unusual out there?”

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah. Well no. Maybe.” He pinched the spot between his eyebrows. “I don’t know. I found...signs.”

“Signs?”

“Yeah, of thing. It was there again. There was vomit and blood and pieces of fur everywhere. Whatever it is...I - I think it’s dying.”

Mrs. Wheeler was silent then. She sucked her bottom lip in then let it pop back out, a move that Steve, and majority of Hawkin’s male population, found incredibly irresistible. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Steve.”

“Mrs. Wheeler?”

“We can’t do this again.” 

Steve groaned. He had thought as much and though he tried not to show it, those very words were like daggers in his heart. She tossed a worried look his way then dropped a hand on his knee. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that turning from a bite can be really bad if you do it too often. Nobody really knows why or how but...I had a friend who became addicted to the feeling that he got after being bitten so he sought it out. And after years of being bitten over and over again before it was his time to turn he went insane. His body literally destroyed itself.” She cleared her throat. “It’s just not natural. It’s not something that either form is capable of dealing with too often.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

Mrs. Wheeler scrunched her face into a sad little smile. The rest of the trip was taken in silence until they turned onto his street. She parked his car behind a small grove of trees and reached in her bag for a bottle of perfume. 

“Are you satisfied?” The smell that hit him when she loosened the top was powerful enough to make him gag. She looked up at him in surprise then muttered ‘shoot’ before stuffing the bottle back in her bag.

“Satisfied?” He choked.

“You said that it’s dying. The thing out there.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts. Not now. God, I shouldn’t have…” she reached in her purse and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. “I need to think.”

With that she glanced at their surroundings. When she was sure that nobody was around she stepped out of his car and closed the door. “Give it some time. Maybe it’ll die out.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You can talk to me. And Jim.”

“Copy that.”

She flashed him a sad smile and was gone.

* * *

Hargrove’s Residence

A young man leans into a mirror. His pupils are dilated. Sweat plasters his curly hair to his forehead. The veins in his neck are throbbing and tinged blackish-blue. He runs his fingers along his skin, tilts his chin this way and that to assess the damage. It’s blooming, this sickness, again.

Rock and roll plays on the radio. Cigarette smoke wafts from the ash tray and draws grey curlicues on his face. He’s growing weak and incapable. Suddenly he slams his palm into the mirror. In his mind, he’s cursing his father: a scared, broken impotent who could never understand. He was ruining him, whether he knew it or not.

But the young man is resolved. He’s a fighter and, in that moment, there was only one thing left fighting for. He’d rather die than lose. Or, maybe, it was his will to win that was killing him. 

But it seemed as if there were other options available. He had found it in the hills a few days ago. Another one just like him, but pure. Maybe.

“Billy! Time for dinner. You need to be ready for your first day of school tomorrow.”

The young man slides his fingers along his chest, lets them find their way to his freshly bandaged stomach. He pinches the waxy skin grown cold by his desire, by his sickly need to fuel his own fire.

An image of the Brown Wolf flashes in his mind and he grins.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've already written one of my hot scenes. In case it wasn't obvious in the original summary, this story will definitely include explicit sex scenes, references to sex, rough language, etc. Have a sneak peek, lovelies!  
XxXx  
“You know what I want…” his voice was husky and low in Steve’s ear.  
“But can’t you-”  
“Shhhh. Screw me and we’ll make a deal.”  
Before Steve could disagree, Billy was guiding him out of the showers towards the door of the locker room. Though he had never done it with a man, Steve knew exactly which position Billy was going for when he turned around to face him. But instead of going straight into it, Billy knelt down and began to give Steve the best head that he had ever received.  
"You know....you're really good at this.."  
Billy looked up at him with a mouth full of his cock. Steve shivered and quickly closed his eyes. "Wait no, don't look at me."  
'Pop' went Steve's cock from Billy's mouth. "Sounds like you can't handle it."  
"No, I can, I just-"  
"If you cum in the next ten seconds then you have to [***redacted spoiler***] Ten..." Billy slid Steve's cock slowly along his tongue until the tip hit the back of his throat. Nine, he gargled. He was watching Steve as he deepthroated him. His blue eyes were enough to make Steve lightheaded.  
Eight.  
"No no no no no no promises no promises."  
Billy was running his fingers along his balls all while using his throat and his tongue together to create a rolling pressure along Steve's shaft. He raised his eyebrows, a threat to stop. Seven.  
"Okay okay I'll do what you want just...make...me...yeah, no, right there."  
Six.  
He grabbed a fist full of Billy's hair and pulled him away from his cock. The image of Billy's dark lashes and pearly white teeth beneath his smile was enough to push Steve over the edge...  
xXxXxXx  
Love these two. See you Wednesday!


	3. Predator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that moment when you promise your readers that you'll have a chapter out by Wednesday but then your internet goes out AND your laptop screen breaks? I do.
> 
> Point three: Werewolves are prone to an increased libido, restlessness, and adrenaline-seeking behaviors. This is due to the fact that two powerful energies are constantly vying for power within them: that of the human and that of the beast.

The Hawkin's Halloween party had been following the same course every year since Steve started high school. It was always hosted at the same house, by the same people who insisted on doing a costume competition. Which was always won by the same clique. The music was cheesy and the food was lame. So at some point Steve had decided against dressing up all together. That was kiddy stuff.

On the contrary, Steve had only gone the last few years for very adult reasons. That, and he would get nonstop shit for it if he didn’t attend. 

It was all the same. Except this year he wouldn’t be kicking ass in the keg competition nor getting laid. He put his arm around Nancy Wheeler and guided her to a corner where she stood with her arms crossed uncomfortably across her chest.

“See, it’s not so bad,” he whispered in her ear. “Just gotta let yourself loosen up a lil' bit.”

“Speak for yourself,” she said, “why are you still wearing your sunglasses?”

“What?” He looked at her in mock surprise. “Oh, come on you didn’t know that werewolves were light sensitive?” He asked jokingly before attempting to pick her up. She smiled uncomfortably and squirmed out of his grasp. He could still see it in her eyes: the confusion, the fear, her worry over Barb. It occurred to him that maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to bring her. Maybe it was too early, maybe he should have kept her at home and made her hot chocolate like a good boyfriend.

He was about to say all of this when a sudden ringing filled his ears. It seemed to be coming from all corners of the house yet nobody else seemed affected by it. The sounds of the party fell to a muffle and he reached back to smooth the hairs on the back of his neck.

“WE GOT OURSELVES A NEW KEG KING!" Someone yelled. 

He stood there, confused. Something was coming. He felt it but couldn't tell who or what it was.

“That’s how you do it!”

_ That _ voice set his teeth on edge. The crowd was chanting something, a name. _ Billy, Billy, Billy. _And still the presence grew stronger, bore closer. Saliva filled his mouth. His gums twitched and spasmed as he ground his teeth together.

“Got ourselves a new keg king, Harrington!”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Yeah, eat it, Harrington!”

He wanted to kill the young man standing before him. It took everything in him, every ounce of restraint that he could summon, not to lunge and sink his teeth into the new kid. _ Billy. Billy Hargrove. _Why did the sight of him set him on edge? He had heard about him, in the halls, at the lockers. His reputation preceded him. But it hadn’t impressed Steve. Not until now. Now, the legend stood close enough for Steve to smell his acrid sweat. It made him hungry and horny and restless.

Billy stared at him. Though Billy was much better at hiding his emotions from the people surrounding them, Steve could see the watchfulness in his eyes. It was as if he, too, was ready to pounce. Although they had never met, the tension between them was palpable.

_ You wanna tango _? Billy’s eyes seemed to say as he took a drag of his cigarette.

_ Right here, right now, amigo. _

Steve felt Nancy lunge away and he was suddenly snapped back to reality. “Shit,” he muttered as he swiped his glasses from his face and ran after her. 

* * *

Billy

He had been able to smell him. Outside of the house, walking in. Wandering through the maze of cheap perfume and alcohol, he had latched onto his scent. It wasn’t a bad scent. It was earthy and wet. It reminded him of the ocean.

He had spotted him as soon as he had walked through the door. There, leaning against the wall with his sunglasses on. Oh, the sunglasses and the tousled mane of hair had been a dead giveaway. The sight of him had made his heart stutter, as if his teeth were already on his neck, as if their bodies were already close.

But he had decided not to approach him just yet. No, he would circle him, watch him, take him in.

The Hawkin’s King. _ His _ legend had preceded _ him _. His first day at Hawkin’s High, Billy had heard rumours and whispers about the charismatic clown Harrington. Never could he have imagined…

He licked his back teeth as he watched Steve retreat after the mousy Wheeler bitch. Whatever was on the verge of happening between him and Steve had been lost but the anticipation of it had thrilled him.

He wanted to go after him but he’d have to be patient. A good thing could wait.

For Billy had seen the scars on Steve's neck and realized that Steve was a good thing indeed.

* * *

He doesn’t go home immediately that night.

He fucks, he drinks, he smokes, and by the time that everybody else is either blacked out or too tired to pretend anymore, he is on his way to the motel . Hands shoved deep in his pockets, he walks down the middle of the road and pontificates over his cigarette. A few thoughts plague him: first, he tries to refocus the blurry memories of his mother but they’re too fast fading. Then he thinks of his dad waiting to tear into him at home. There’d be hell to pay for not enforcing his bastard 'sister’s' curfew but screw them. He wasn’t anybody’s babysitter. 

Then he thinks of Harrington, Harrington with his smooth skin and unblinking eyes.

The thought of the young man’s snarl made him visibly aroused and he hums appreciatively. No amount of fucking that night could satiate the need that was growing again.

He passes his house and walks on towards the motel located on the outskirts of the town. When he gets there he unlocks the door to room 203 and steps inside. All is dark and he flicks the light on with a curse. The sheets are rumpled on the bed and the shower is running but he could sense that no one’s there.

“Daniel!”

A familiar presence fills the space behind him and he’s suddenly filled with relief.

“Am I not allowed to smoke?”

A young man squeezes past him and wanders into the bathroom to turn the shower off. He returns and casts Billy a guilty look.

“We agreed that you’d get a smoking room so that you wouldn't have to go back and forth. No one can know you’re here, remember?”

Daniel nods and shifts his gaze so that Billy wouldn’t see the tears brimming but it was too late. Billy shuts the door behind them and pulls him into a hug. He inhales the heavy scent of cigarettes, sweat, and shampoo and curls his fingers in Daniel’s shirt.

“Bite me,” he says as he runs his nose along Daniel’s neck. Daniel stiffens and says nothing. Enraged, Billy shoves him back and fixes him with a deathly glare. His nose begins to drip blood on the carpet. “I SAID BITE ME!”

“I already bit you a couple days ago.You’re addicted.” When Daniel speaks his voice is weak. The stress from their years together has begun to weigh on him. He takes in the sight of Billy standing there and feels nothing but disdain for this thing that has consumed them both. “Do you even remember how this all started? It was this hot, exciting affair that we _ both _ enjoyed. Two sinners against humanity, remember that, Billy?” Daniel gives a small laugh. He's doesn't notice Billy balling his fists. “Now you have me here in this backwards hick town, waiting on you like some prisoner _ bitch _.”

Billy rushes him. With both hands he holds Daniel’s head still and presses him against the bed board with the weight of his body. He kisses him hungrily, rolls his tongue along his lips and pulls his hair just the way he likes it. Billy is an expert and he exerts his power over Daniel’s will until they’re both hard and naked.

“But you like waiting on me like a bitch.” Billy is on top of him, his knees pressing into Daniel’s sides. He holds his partner’s eyes as he licks his lips, reaches down to stroke both their cocks. “Say it.” Daniel closes his eyes. "_ Say it. _”

“I like waiting on you like a bitch.”

Billy lifts up and when he comes back down he eases Daniel inside of him. They both sigh as Daniel places his hands on Billy’s lower back above the bandage.

“Billy,” Daniel stutters as Billy begins to ride him. Billy rolls his tongue along his teeth with a smile. “You never told me what happened to your stomach.” 

Billy sighs and spreads the blood from his fingers along Daniel's chest. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to. Do you want me?” 

He’s magnificent and beautiful and electric and Daniel can’t take his eyes off of him. “Yes.”

“Good.” Suddenly Billy digs his fingernails into Daniel’s jaw and forces him to look into his eyes. “Then we’re going to the hills.”

* * *

Next day at basketball practice, Billy is delighted to find that Steve Harrington is playing on the opposite team. He hasn’t seen him since the Halloween party and he’d begun to obsess over the thought of him. There was something about Harrington that excited him. In him he found a worthy opponent, a king meant to be toyed with and then dethroned.

“Hey, let’s go, pass it out now!” Coach yells and one of the players tosses the ball to Steve. Billy intercepts with ease and gives a whoop of laughter.

“Alright!” He calls to the rest of the players. He senses Steve watching him carefully and marvels at his ability to remain emotionless. “Alright, alright! King Steve! King Steve, everyone! I like it, you’re playing tough today.”

“Jesus, do you ever stop talking, man? Come on.”

Billy loves it. He wants to see Steve crack. He laughs again and dribbles the ball leisurely. “What, you afraid the coach is gonna bench you now that I’m here? Huh?”

It was a weak comment meant to catch Steve off guard. Suddenly, Billy barrels past him with a quick shove to the chest and sinks the basketball in the hoop. His heart is beating thunderously and his hand smarts where it had touched Steve’s chest. When he turns around, the Hawkin's king is on the ground with his legs in the air. Billy can’t help himself. The smell of Steve has filled the entire gym. It’s making him crazy, hungry, and the thoughts of what he’d do to Daniel (or make Daniel do) run rampant in his mind.

_ What is it about you, _he thinks to himself as he walks towards Steve. He reaches down and clasps Steve’s hand in his own, gauging the other man’s strength. The answer should have been obvious. Steve had something that Billy wanted. He sees it there as he scans Steve’s eyes. There’s a hunger and distance that mirrors his. He tightens his grip and Steve responds by tightening his own. Billy knows what it is then. He doesn't want to just take from him.

He wants to run with him.

“You were moving your feet. Plant them next time. Draw a charge.”

With that, he shoves him back to the ground and leaves before Steve could see the change in his eyes.

* * *

Billy hadn’t come to Hawkins alone. There was his family, of course, Daniel, and a ragtag team of werewolves that had devoted themselves to him. His pack. They called him their leader, although none of them could ever truly comprehend the meaning of the word. While Billy went to school and tended to his own affairs, they camped out in the hills, safe from the probing eye of the Hawkin’s police force. They knew nothing of Billy’s true predicament. They lived only for the hunt and the comfort of being led. They had no manners, no regrets, and no fear.

* * *

“Don’t sweat it Harrington. Today’s just not your day, man.”

Steam floats between them. Steve ignores him and instead focuses on running shampoo through his hair. While he’s distracted, Billy eyes him in appreciation. The kid wasn't hard on the eyes, not at all. Billy wonders what he looks like when he’s pre-transformation. He wonders if he strokes his cock like he does, if he makes noise or if he stays quiet. Water rolls from Steve’s collar and onto his chest and suddenly Billy’s thirsty.

“Don’t take it too hard man. Pretty boy like you got nothing to worry about.” He leans in close, breathes in the wet smell of Steve, and says, “Plenty of bitches in the sea.”

He turns the nozzle which abruptly kills the water flow. He can’t resist it and smacks Steve on the arm. “Amiright?”

Steve says nothing which further impresses Billy. Harrington was harder to crack than he had previously thought. But as he turns the corner he hears the shower come back on with a violent ‘whunk’ and he smiles to himself.

* * *

At that moment, back at the motel room, Daniel has rooted through one of Billy’s coat pockets and finished a pack of cigarettes. He apologizes for this in his note then writes his name at the bottom of the page. He shoulders a leather jacket and walks out into the night, never to be seen in that small town again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought that there was something strange and wonderful about the way that Billy looked at Steve during the Halloween party scene and later during their shower scene in season...2, was it? Anyway, it was so much fun exploring the possible feelings behind their behavior in this chapter. Trust me, I watched those two scenes over and over on YouTube. No regrats!


	4. ...Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'm going to update every Wednesday!  
SpongeBob meme: I'm GoInG tO uPdAtE eVeRy WeDnEsDaY!  
Me: *surprised Pikachu face*
> 
> Point Four: The ability to transform can skip generations.

Steve Harrington had been born with a full head of hair. When his mother first saw him, she cried and held him close. After years’s worth of a simple human lineage, her first son bore the tell-tale marking of a werewolf. She had been warned of her family’s predisposition but never could she have imagined that she’d be the one to face the trials and tribulations of raising a werewolf. When he was of an appropriate age to travel, she had taken him to an elder werewolf in San Francisco. “Please,” she had begged the jaundiced grandfather, “tell me that it hasn’t happened to my boy.” The elder werewolf had sniffed Steve and wrinkled his nose. He tested the grip in the boy’s tiny fingers, peered deep into his unusually still eyes. And he delivered the news that Mrs. Harrington had been afraid of. He told her where to take the boy -a place in Indiana where another, older werewolf resided. “There’s a quiet town there. Let him live his life amongst the hills, keep him away from trouble.”

So she had taken him to Hawkins and kept his true nature a secret from the world. Not even his father was aware of what he was becoming. As he grew older, the traits of his being became more obvious: an unnatural charisma which impressed his peers, a restless sense of rebellion that kept him in and out of the principal's office, a mane full of hair that could not be tamed. These she attributed to simple genetics but deep down she knew. A werewolf in its human form was a cannonball and as cannonballs were prone, he became too explosive for the small Hawkins town. Many a full moon she wept on the bathroom floor and prayed that maybe, maybe the wolf in him just wouldn’t appear.

And then...the days of transformation began. She had tried to explain in stuttered words what was too happen. But how could she - a simple human - have known how to convey the magic, the mystery of transformation? It was Hopper who had saved them then. On the night of the moon when Steve had begun to spasm and froth at the mouth she had called Jim. He had arrived in a few minutes in nothing but a tee shirt and jeans, his breath reeking of alcohol. He had taken her boy then, said nothing, and drove off with him in the backseat of his car. Once in the hills he had opened the door. Steve had tumbled out, his face twisted in fear.

“Go, kid,” was all that Jim had said. That’s when Steve’s first transformation began to take place.

The next morning Jim had taken Steve to a diner in the town. He had bought him coffee - ‘hot chocolate for grown ups’ - and explained to him the basics of the werewolf lifestyle. Transformations happened every full moon. The punishment of exposure was death (or worse) met out by the community. The ability to transform would fade, so enjoy it. 

“I’m the closest you have to a pack leader. So listen to me.”

“So why can’t you run with me?”

Hopper had never answered and in time Steve came to develop his own theory. “Chief,” he had asked him later on. “Is it possible for a werewolf to lose its ability to transform before he gets old?”

Jim had stared out the window, his face set in a grimace. “Certain life events can mess up the…” he gestured hopelessly, drained his coffee, stood up to leave. “You’ll be fine.”

Life in Hawkins, for Steve, had become mind numbing. He had fucked, he had partied, but nothing quite satiated his need to run with others. He craved the turnings of the full moon like a child craved chocolate but, beneath that craving, there was also the desire to belong, to feel the echo of paws other than his own. His desire for companionship could never quite be fulfilled by any one woman so he flew through them all, doubled back until he found Nancy. Something about the ease of her nature calmed him, settled him back down in reality. She was different than the other girls who happily rolled on their backs for him. Though she knew nothing of his true nature, she remained a pretty reminder to the fact that there was a balance to be found in his human side.

And then...Billy. 

He didn’t know what it was about Billy that irked him. The young man was brash, sure, a regular asshole but there was something else. Every word spoken by Billy to him was preceded by a long glance. It was as if Billy took the time out of every day to monitor him, to gauge his every move. Many a times he had caught Billy’s eyes wandering along his shirt and the front of his pants but he assumed that he had been simply comparing their bodies for some narcissistic reason.

“Insecure prick.”

“Why can’t you just report him or something?” Nancy had asked. 

Sure, Hargrove’s constant bullying and jibes was grounds for a report but something about it was also exciting to Steve. Never, during his time at Hawkins High, had anyone had the balls to challenge him. The sight of Billy’s smirk, the narrowed eyes, the feel of his body during basketball, the smell of his cologne in class...at times the thought of him made Steve clench his fingers and grit his teeth. He had already resolved to be the better man and ignore Billy’s behaviour but, like a wolf pup eyeing a potential challenge, he wanted to play.

Still, the issue of the unknown menace in the hills plagued him. Neither Hopper nor Mrs. Wheeler had been of much help. The next full moon was fast approaching and they had implied that, most likely, the ‘thing’ had died out. Still, they had begged him to consider leaving Hawkins for a while, even going so far as to suggest it to his mother but Steve wasn’t a coward. The Hawkins hills belonged to him and he’d be damned if some foreign entity ran him out. 

Plus, he didn’t want to give Billy the satisfaction of thinking that  _ he  _ had made him run away.

No, he had made a conscious effort to not give a fuck about Billy…

Until the day that he saw Billy Hargrove cry.

* * *

The end of the school day couldn’t come fast enough. Steve was hyped because the full moon was approaching. In only a week he’d be free to run again. Already the faceless menace in the hills was fading from his mind. Though still slightly irked by the strange encounter, the threat of his foe had diminished. He sensed that whatever - or whomever it was - had become too sick to be of any concern for him. And if it did approach him, well, he would just have to kill it and prove to Hopper that he was more than a vulnerable hothead.

After class he went straight to the gym for a round of basketball practice. He was surprised to find that Billy wasn’t there. He had heard rumours that the Other Hawkins King had been acting strange: no catcalling in the halls, sunglasses in the classroom, and a general aura of withdrawal that was uncharacteristic for his being. They had only seen each other once in the halls. Billy’s eyes had met his behind dark glasses but his face had betrayed nothing but a general dislike. Steve had tried to convince himself that he didn't care but their lack of banter disappointed him. Part of him had come to look forward to their back-and-forths.

“You two should get a room,” Carol had said.

“What, so you can watch?” Steve had spat back.

After practice he lingered around and made small talk with the cheerleaders but to no avail. They no longer had eyes for him so, with nothing else to do, he spent the rest of his energy by shooting hoops until the janitor came around and told him that it was 8:30, god damnit, and that it was time for both of them to get some sleep.

Surprised, Steve made his way to the locker rooms for a shower and a quick jack off. He opened the door, hit the light switch, and froze. Somewhere by the sinks someone was sniffling and gasping.

“Hello?” He called and slowly rounded the corner.

There, shirtless and hunched over the sink, stood Billy. His broad hands grasped the porcelain as if he were trying to crush it. His shoulders heaved with each breath beneath his loose hair. 

“Go. Away.” Billy growled. But Steve couldn’t bring himself to leave. Billy reared up and turned around. His face was like that of a stone covered in rain, his eyes red and wild. 

“Hey man are you -”

“No. Don’t touch me.”

Steve hadn’t even realized that he had reached out to him. In a span of a few seconds he had closed the space between them with an intent that was lost on both of them. Timidly, he dropped his hand and Billy did the same. He had never realized just how attractive the young man was. Hearing the girls chatter and fawn over Billy had been one small matter of annoyance, but seeing the slick chest and slightly stubbled jaw aroused something in Steve. 

_ You’re beautiful _ , he wanted to say but caught himself just in time. Billy pursed his lips, rolled his shoulders. Though the tears were no longer falling and his face was set there was a hopelessness in Billy’s eyes that dissolved all feelings of hatred within Steve.

“Have you ever lost someone you loved, Harrington?”

Steve shook his head. “I-I haven’t,” he stuttered.

Billy exhaled violently and quickly swiped the wetness from his nose with the back of his hand. “Mister Fucking lucky. Get out of here.” Steve was still. “NOW, HARRINGTON, BEFORE I KICK YOUR ASS!”

“Prick,” Steve muttered in disbelief and turned to leave. He was halfway to the door when Billy called his name. He turned to face him and once again the meeting of their eyes sent shivers down his spine. Billy ran a finger along his neck. His eyes were as green as candy, pupils large and black as night.

“Nice scars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are Billy's eyes blue or green? Sorry if I'm flip flopping with the description. I keep forgetting.  
Surprise double update ahead. Carry on, my Wayward Reader!


	5. Full

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by:  
\- Dacre Montgomery's poetry podcast.  
\- The scene in ST in which (SPOILER ALERT) mind-flayed Billy warns El that she has revealed herself. Montgomery's acting in that scene was PHENOMENAL and inspired the following scene in which Billy circles Steve  
\- The scene/s in ST in which (uh, spoiler?) Billy flirts with Karen.  
\- Caffeine
> 
> Point Five: The length of the actual act of transformation can vary.

Full Moon.

Mrs. Wheeler had already come to accept her loss. Every month she felt a slight twinge in her gut as if something were pulling her, saying, ‘come, this way.” Though her last transformation had happened around a year ago, the feel of the moonlight on her skin raised the hairs on the back of her neck, made her wet. Her husband could never understand why, on those nights, she came to him all dressed up and ready to fuck. Of course, she could never tell him. The life of an elder werewolf was filled with memories that could never be spoken to loved ones.

Soon, the yearnings would fade completely. Her bite would lose its power and she’d become like Hopper: barren of ability and aching with regret. Should have run further, should have met others, should have left her mark…

Now, she watched Holly chase the other children around the playground. She remembered sniffing each of her children after giving birth to them. She hadn’t caught the scent on any of them, thank god, but still. To think that one day she might have to explain the family curse-

Or was it a blessing?

Holly fell and looked up in surprise. But before she could squeeze out a single alligator tear, she was up and running, her yellow boots slapping loosely at her tiny legs. The smell of cigarette smoke filled the air and Mrs. Wheeler clenched her fists in her lap.

“The Hargrove boy?” She asked and glanced at Chief Hopper out of the corner of her eye. He pinched the cigarette from his lips and dropped it to the ground.

“Can’t tell,” he said as he ground the tip beneath his heel. “You?”

She shook her head. An image of the fine young man passing by her in the school parking lot flashed across her mind. His eyes were electric, his stride wide and unapologetic. She bit her lip. 

“Friend from California called this morning, said she knew his biological mother. As it turns out, she’s one of us. Used to run with a pretty big pack, apparently.”

“Where is she now?”

Hopper shrugged. His eyes were distant. She could see the wheels turning in his mind. He looked at her suddenly and, seeing the concern on her face, blushed and gave her a smile. “Cigarette for the lady?”

“Trying to quit. Thank you.”

He nodded, kicked awkwardly at the ground for a second, and then bid her goodbye. She leaned back on the bench and fluttered her lips.

_ Billy Hargrove _ , she thought as she pictured the blond curls and bedroom eyes,  _ lovely name.  _

And she tried to blame the feelings that she felt then on the coming of the full moon.

* * *

Transformation night.

Steve howled and pressed his foot on the gas. His spirits were high - no, he was high. He could feel the tingles spreading through his body. He felt restless, and horny; invincible and cocky. That day, nothing could bring him down, not his mother wringing her hands and telling him to be careful, not Hop warning him to stay out of trouble and to ‘avoid that Hargrove boy.” As if the blond haired cock would be an issue on a night like that.

He had left home early that evening. He wanted to take things easy this time: no Dustin (though he had begged to come along,) and no rush to get there. That night he would run, he would piss and dig and frolic to his heart’s content. And if he ran into the ‘thing’ again, well, may God help it .

“ _ Oh, I wish that I had Jessie’s girl _ ,” he sang out the window as he tore through the fields leading to the hills. His cock throbbed for nothing in particular.  _ Euphorila _ , Mrs. Wheeler had called it, the euphoria and lust of the full moon. “ _ Where can I find a woman like that? _ ”

His voice died on his lips when he saw the headlights flash in his rear view mirror. It was rare for anybody else to be out on the road at that time but, still, it did happen.

“Fucking kids,” Steve muttered and adjusted his mirror. What he saw then made his heart skip a beat. There, smirking back at him from behind the wheel, was none other than Billy Hargrove. “Shit,” Steve hissed, “not now, not now, not now, come on…”

But it seemed as if Billy had plans of his own that night. He kept an even pace with Steve, his ‘79 Chevrolet Camaro humming threateningly all the while.

“Hey, asshole, go find someone else to get your dick hard, alright?” Steve yelled out the window. He saw Billy laugh and stick his middle finger in the air.

“Fuck!”

He hit the gas pedal hard then and Billy followed suit. He couldn’t turn around and go back to the town. If he did, he’d be forced to transform within the town’s limits which wouldn’t bode well for him at all. And so he continued on towards the hills with Billy close on his bumper. The first wave was coming. Already his vision was beginning to shift nauseatingly. He had already passed his usual turn off with the hopes that maybe Billy would grow tired of whatever little game that he had planned. Steve gripped his steering wheel harder, forcing himself to focus on the road ahead. Sweat broke out on his forehead and crept through his shirt but he was cold. His skin tingled. He’d have to pull over soon.

So, with nothing left to do, he swung a hard right and threw himself out of the car. He didn’t know where in the hills he was or where he was going. All that he knew was that he had to get away from Billy - and fast. Tipsy, he stumbled on leaden legs until he reached a clearing. But he wasn’t fast enough. Billy was only a few paces behind him. He could sense his presence, smell cigarette smoke in the air. Breathless, Steve fell against a tree and held the trunk with trembling arms. He closed his eyes against the night and willed himself to stay human, stay human, for just a little bit longer. His body shivered and he grimaced. 

“You don’t remember me,” he looked up just in time to see Billy circling him. His eyes were dark as the night, his irises silver slivers cut deep in his face. “But I remember you. You smell the same. Like the ocean and...fear.” Billy closed his eyes, inhaled deep. But whether it was the smoke or his scent that he was inhaling, Steve couldn’t tell.

“You don’t want to do this, man, now’s not the time!” Steve yelled. Billy laughed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You already did!” In one deft movement, Billy pulled his shirt off, exposing several ugly scars running across his torso. Saliva gushed to Steve’s mouth and he spat. “Tell me something, Harrington, where’d you get those wounds on your neck?”

Something occurred to Steve then. His eyes traveled from Billy's stomach to his chest and then to his smiling face. The image of the Blond wolf baring his teeth flashed in his mind and for the first time he really noticed Billy’s hair: blond locks falling in curls along his shoulders. He took a ragged breath in and was hit by Billy’s scent. It was musty and sharp. It made his stomach turn and his heart flip so fast that his next word was a mere whisper that died on Billy’s chest. Billy was close to him now, so close that Steve could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“You?”

Billy rested a palm against the trunk, smiled, and placed the other hand on Steve’s cheek. “Me,” he said as he ran a ringed finger along Steve’s lips.

It could have been the euphorila running through him then or it could have been months of pent up sexual frustration but something about Billy was just so arousing to him. Steve had always had an eye for some of the more athletic types at school, even going so far as to fantasize about them while jacking off. But he had never approached or been approached by someone of the same gender. 

His cock twitched and began to grow against Billy’s thigh. They both felt it but Steve wasn’t ashamed. He was deliriously desirous and, in that moment, the full force of his hunger rested on the sight, the shape, the feel of Billy’s body. It had all led up to this, he realized, the tension, the banter, the prolonged eye contact across the hall…

He could feel the canine teeth begin to extend from his gums.

“Let me in,” Billy’s voice was a deep, rumbling echo in the far reaches of his mind. He accepted the finger that probed past his lips and, before he knew what he was doing, he bit down, hard. Billy grunted and arched back. His hand withdrew from his mouth and Steve fell to the ground on all fours. The last thing that the human in him heard was Billy laughing - or was he crying? - and then…

The Brown Wolf rose on wobbling legs. He shook his head then threw himself back, away from the Blond Wolf that now stood before him. The two eyed each other suspiciously but they did not growl. On the contrary, any animosity that either beast had felt had subsided. The threat of danger had fled in mere seconds. The Blond Wolf licked his lips, raised his head, then let out a howl that could be heard for miles around. Several howls followed and the Brown Wolf cowered as the earth began to rumble. Soon he was surrounded once again by an unfamiliar pack. They circled him slowly, glaring between the Blond Wolf and the Brown One. But something was different this time. They sensed that their leader was at peace. They watched with eyes that mirrored the moon as the Blond Wolf approached the Brown One. The latter was quick to retreat but the Brown Wolf lowered his head and pressed his snout against his neck in a gesture of familiarity. The Blond Wolf sighed deep in his throat and the Brown Wolf, though still unsure, seemed to accept the sign of affection.

_ Run with us,  _ Billy said.

And Steve was more than happy to accept. The Blond Wolf raised a howl that was followed by the others, but especially by the Brown Wolf. In seconds they were off and running, their paws creating dust in the night wind.

* * *

Steve awoke as he had many times before: naked and slightly confused. But this time, something was different. He raised himself up on his elbows and glanced to the side. There, lying beside him, was Billy. His hands were clasped above his bare chest and his face was peaceful. As if sensing him watching, his eyes opened and he fixed Steve with an unreadable gaze. Gently, he, too, raised himself up and shifted so that they were facing each other. Steve was at a loss for words, but it turned out that he didn’t need to speak. Billy reached over and pulled him closer. Their lips met and they kissed without fear. Nothing else mattered: not the dry grass pressing into their backs, not the heat of the sun on their skin, not the unfamiliar territory around them. Billy guided him back down to the ground and Steve let him. He was already hard and desperate to be touched in anyway that Billy wanted.

“You’re beautiful,” Billy said as he grasped them both at the same time and began to stroke. The resulting feeling was unbearably pleasant and Steve fell back with a sigh. Never had any woman made him feel like this before. Billy spit into his hand and slowly pressed one, two, fingers into him. He hissed, arched his back. He hated Billy, he loved him - the combination of the two feelings was too much for Steve to handle so he turned and pushed himself up on all fours. He felt Billy lean against him and press his cheek to his back.  _ He’s actually going to do it _ , Steve realized as Billy lined himself up against his body. Billy groaned. The feel and sound of it sent shivers up and down Steve’s spin.  _ Fuck, I’m going to let him do it.  _ Billy was inside of him in seconds. They both made their own separate noises of relief as Billy pushed in deeper. It hadn’t hurt as much as Steve had expected - then again, Steve had never really expected it at all. Billy moved quickly. He grasped Steve’s hips and adjusted him until he found the right angle. His expertise was not lost on Steve and for a moment he was jealous to think that Billy had been with another man. But there was no time for that. Steve wanted to bask in the feeling forever. Already the thought of it ending was killing him. He ground his forehead in the dirt and steadied himself with fingers curled around tufts of grass as Billy forced himself into Steve again and again until Steve came with tight-lipped growl. Billy followed soon after. The sound of his orgasm was quieter, shy even, and for a few moments after he simply held himself inside of Steve. Then, when the post-orgasm sensitivity became too overwhelming for both Billy let him go .

There was nothing to be said, nothing for them to do but to feel their own separate feelings. Billy lay on his back and Steve rolled into the nook of his arm with another satisfied groan.

“Got anywhere to be, Harrington?” Billy asked as their fingers interlaced. The clouds drifted above them slowly, lazily. Puffs of cream on a sheet of hard candy. Steve twisted his lips, shook his head.

“Nah. You?”

“...nah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read a book / watched a movie called Blood and Chocolate a while ago. It's a hot and fun bit of fiction about werewolves. While it wasn't a direct inspiration for this fic, there are coincidental similarities which are only just now occurring to me. 
> 
> Werewolf lore is hot. Haringrove is hotter. Let's put that on a tee-shirt.


	6. ...Of Longing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry guys. My laptop is like BROKE broke so my updates have been delayed. Luckily I have a few chapters pre-written and by the time that I post those I should have access to a new laptop. *fingers crossed*
> 
> Point Six: Homosexuality is not considered strange or taboo in werewolf culture. The base need TO BOND is understood and respected amongst all members

Billy and Steve.

Steve and Billy.

Steve couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, and he definitely couldn’t bear the thought of going to school. He felt like a clueless damsel in one of those romance films that he hated so much. Except his experience was deeper, much more in tune with the matters of the soul than any bleeding heart writer could ever capture. His every waking moment was filled with thoughts of  _ him _ . What was  _ he _ doing just then? Was  _ he _ flashing that smile upon some poor, unsuspecting female? Was  _ he  _ fucking a girl? Was  _ he  _ still obsessing over the thought of them together like Steve was?

In cases like this where he had fiended for someone that he couldn’t touch, he had done what many boys would do: he dedicated long showers to jack off sessions. But his cock had become unresponsive to his own touch, for nothing could amount to the rush that he had felt with Billy. Three days had passed since their moonlit meeting, three days in which Steve feigned the flu and simply lay in bed thinking about them together. Hours were spent with him staring at the ceiling, trying to replay every moment in his mind. They had fucked, they had run, and they had awoken to a morning so blissful that Steve feared that the rest of his life would be a downhill tumble from the climax. It wasn’t the homoerotic nature of their relationship that bothered him - Steve was quite settled in the fluidity of his sexuality - but rather the fact that he was supposed to hate Billy. The entirety of Hawkins had them pit against each other and for good reason. They were kings vying over the same throne: two fiery, grade-A show-offs with a penchant for chaos. That, and Billy really was a piece of shit. Steve had seen the way that Billy treated his sister. Hell, Nancy had told him that Billy had even tried to run the D&D weirdos off of the road.

But, god damn, if Hargrove wasn’t magnetic!

And then there was the fact of their shared transformation and the rest of the pack. Steve’s mind was laced with fog. There were questions that should have been asked, ideas that formed and died out with every wave of longing. But Steve didn’t want to think anymore. He wanted to lay in his bed forever and reminisce.

A few people had stopped by during his absence from school. Nancy - which was a surprise considering the growing distance in their relationship, Tommy, Carol, even Mrs. Wheeler. But the most intrusive of these had been Hopper. He had appeared in Steve’s doorway with a strange look on his face and his hat wrung in his hands.

“How you doin’, kid?” He had asked while Steve's mother lurked nervously in the doorway.

“What? Does it look like I've lost my million-dollar charm already?”

There were questions that Hopper wanted to ask that Steve didn't want to answer. So they had been steeped in silence: Steve, reclining in his bed with his arm draped over his forehead and Hopper glaring, desperately fighting off the need to smoke.

“We think we know who the mystery biter might have been,” Hop said. Steve had simply groaned in response. He didn’t care, he didn't want to think, he just wanted to fuck. “Did something happen during the last moon?”

“ _ No.  _ Whatever it was is gone. _ ” Oh yeah,  _ he imagined himself saying,  _ and I bit Billy Hargrove and encountered the same pack that I neglected to tell you about.  _ Secrets, secrets were wound tight along his wrist. 

“Don’t lie to me, Harrington.”

“I’m not!” Steve had bolted up then and felt proud to see the surprise flash across Hopper’s eyes. “The ‘thing’s dead. The hills were empty. I just want to get some rest so I can go back to school, alright?”

Hopper didn’t believe him and he knew it. Though the feeling of disdain was growing thick between them, Hopper again urged Steve to use his head. The right one. Steve hadn’t even bothered challenging him on that one. Then Hopper left. So Steve lay back down and let the residual feelings of euphorila boost him back up again.

* * *

Hawkin’s High

“H-A-W...K-I-N-S, don’t touch the Hawkins boys, they are the best!!”

“Cheerleaders, man.” Steve shook his head but kept the basketball moving between his legs. His teammate moved into position for a pass but Steve wasn’t yielding. It was his ball, his court, and his victory shot to take. Without Billy on the court he was free to take control. No callous jabs, no bitching, just him and the ball and his freedom to fly. 

He found a path between the opposing players and went for it. Pale legs flashing, he dashed and weaved. The cheerleaders screamed and giggled - the king was back! And then his hackles rose. He stumbled, tripped, and fell flat on his face. His hands shot up and the basketball went flying into the air, only to land on the head of an unsuspecting cheerleader.

Somewhere, someone was clapping.

“Woo! Good job, Harrington! I give you just one second to redeem yourself and you still can’t get it right.”

The sound of Billy’s voice made Steve’s heart pound so hard that he had to double over and gasp. He looked up at him approaching and was dismayed to see the same old look on his face. Billy was eyeing him and smirking, but not in a friendly way. No, he was looking at him as if he was ready to mentally demolish him. If it were not for the aches in his body, Steve could have been able to convince himself that nothing had happened between them.

The coach blew his whistle and welcomed Billy with open arms. Desperately, Steve watched as the cheerleaders flocked around him and his once so-loyal teammates rushed to clap Billy on the back.

“Where you been, Billy?”

“Yeah, where ya been, man? It ain’t been the same without you!”

“Wouldn’t you boys like to know.”

Billy glanced at Steve again.  _ So we’re going to pretend like nothing happened,  _ Steve asked him with his eyes. But Billy's gaze remained fixed, emotionless. His eyes were vapid, unseeing even. For a brief moment Billy shivered and his face grew taut in fright but whatever it was passed and Steve was the only one who had witnessed it.

“Alright, let’s do this!” Billy yelled then coughed into his hand.

Steve shrugged. If that’s how Billy wanted to play, fine. Steve could suppress his heartbreak. He had done it many times before. He moved into position with the rest. Of course, Billy was on the opposing team. The coach liked it that way, it reawakened the vicious element of competition amongst his players. 

The first ball landed on Steve’s side, He snatched it up before anyone else could and began to dribble at full speed. But, of course, Billy was too fast. Their chests met and Billy’s forearm caught Steve’s throat. Coughing, Steve whipped his head between the coach and Billy.

“Really, you’re gonna let that slide?”

But the game was still going. Steve didn’t even realize that the gym had filled with onlookers, including Nancy and her new fling. Everyone in the crowd could sense something coming. Steve jumped up and ran full speed after Billy but it was too late. Billy had already dunked the ball with a fantastic flourish. When he turned, his face was flush with victory. His slick chest heaved and he licked his lips -  _ come at me _ \- and Steve began to move towards him as if in a trance. The crowd froze as Billy began to walk towards him too and when they met in the middle of the court it was a violent collision with no meaning. Billy bared his teeth, really pissed now, and gave Steve a brute shove. 

“Whatcha gonna do, Harrington, you little bitch?”

That did it. Red in the face, Steve rushed at him and hooked his arm around his neck. Before Billy could react, Steve had brought him to the ground and held him pinned there with both knees. In seconds he had Billy by the wrists and then, ablaze with adrenaline and the need to tear, he grabbed Billy’s jaw with both hands…

“Oh my god!” A lone female voice rang out.

For Steve was kissing him. There, in front of half of the school, Steve Harrington held Billy Hargrove down on the basketball court and kissed him as if his life depended on it. And he felt as if it did. He couldn’t get enough of him. Even as the other players came to drag him away, he held tight to Billy’s hair and then his clothes. Because, in that moment, Billy was everything that Steve had needed those past few days. He was lost in the smell of Billy’s sweat, the clumpy wetness of his hair, and the blood-slickened softness of his lips.

_ I miss you,  _ Steve wanted to say but reality hit him. He looked around at the faces turned in horror towards him. All jaws hung slack. The coach was livid. And then the laughter came. Low at first, it began in the corner of the bleachers and rose like a ripple across the crowd.

“Harrington’s a faggot! S-T-E-V-E the F-A-G-G-OT!” Someone called and the jeer was quickly and enthusiastically picked up by the cheerleaders. And so Steve began to run. He burst through the doors of the gym and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The wolf in him stirred and lent him its speed. Steve ran and he ran and he ran until he collapsed somewhere beneath a grove of trees and began to cry.

* * *

Later that evening, Steve dragged himself back to the school grounds. He was still in his gym clothes and he had left his car keys in his locker. Luckily, no one was around at that time and, having developed a sexual habit that required privacy, he knew how to pick the lock.

The locker room was dark and welcoming in its emptiness. Steve hit the single light switch and dragged himself towards the showers.  _ Screw everything,  _ he thought as he slowly undressed,  _ screw Billy screw basketball screw the school.  _ The ache of his embarrassment still throbbed deep within him as he turned the shower on as high as it could go. The water stung him and yet it was a welcome distraction. He had made out with Billy in front of his classmates. What a jackass.

But still, steeped as he was in shame and the stinging nettles of water, there was only one person that he wanted.

Then the door to the locker room opened and Steve knew that there was a God.

He could hear Billy moving very slowly. The sound of a zipper being pulled and clothes rubbing against skin echoed across the locker room. 

Then the water hit Billy’s skin and created rivulets along the lines of his body. It pooled in his collar bone, dripped from his lips, got caught in the hair on his arm as he reached out and turned the temperature down. Steve felt as if Billy wasn’t just looking at him, he was looking into him, exploring places that Steve was too weary to guard.

“I told those losers to get their mind outta the gutter,” Billy’s voice bounced around the cobwebbed ceiling. “Told ‘em that we just...hit our heads when we fell down. Wasn’t any kissing.”

“You think they’ll believe that?”

“Those sheep’ll believe anything I say. Even did you a favor, told ‘em you might’ve left a bruise.”

Steve spat out laughter. “ _ You  _ did  _ me  _ a favor? Then tell me, if you’re so kind why were you being such a jerk out there?”

Billy sighed with a smile and propped himself up against the wall. Steam rolled between them, carrying both their scents along with it. “So much to learn about the world. Don’t you think they’d find it odd if suddenly we were best friends? I mean, geez, Harrington, do you really want them to know that I fucked you in the hills, that you bit my finger and I transformed into a wolf?”

“Yeah, about that-”

Billy thrust his pointer finger at him. “No. Not now.”

“But-”

Billy

Billy leaned in and kissed him. He sighed deep in his throat as he ran his hand along Steve’s face. Finally, the kiss felt right. There was no rush, they took their time and let their tongues explore. Billy pulled back, took a second to take Steve in, then moved back in. His hands found the sides of Steve’s body then moved up until he was grasping his shoulders. Suddenly he dug his fingers into his flesh and Steve twitched in surprise. Billy liked that. He smiled and could feel the water on his tongue. Steve looked so sweet - one part hard-ass, one-part curiously sensual. The feel of his cock rising against Billy’s thigh aroused them both immeasurably. Billy beant down and licked the water from Steve’s chest. Steve groaned and let his head fall back as Billy’s zig-zagging tongue found his nipples, then his neck, his chin, and his lips.

“If you want to do this then you have to promise me something, Harrington.”

“What’s that, Hargrove?”

Billy looked up at him.

Steve

A twinkle was flashing in his eyes. For a second, Billy looked paler than usual, the veins beneath his skin slightly more pronounced. But Billy was nibbling his ear now and Steve lost track of his thoughts.

“You know what I want…” his voice was husky and low in Steve’s ear.

“But can’t you-”

“Shhhh. Screw me and we’ll make a deal.”

Before Steve could disagree, Billy was guiding him out of the showers towards the door of the locker room. He held his eyes, a devious smile playing around his lips. Steve marveled at his perfection, and wondered if he looked as nice as Billy did then. He felt that it was possible, for with Billy he felt taller, calmer, and closer to God. Billy knelt down and began to give Steve the best head that he had ever received. 

"You know....you're really good at this.." Billy looked up at him with a mouth full of his cock. Steve shivered and quickly closed his eyes. "Wait no, don't look at me."

_ Pop  _ went Steve's cock from Billy's mouth. "Sounds like you can't handle it."

"No, I can, I just-"

"If you cum in the next ten seconds then you have to bite me later on tonight. Ten.." Billy eased Steve's cock slowly along his tongue until the tip hit the back of his throat.  _ Nine,  _ he gargled. He was watching Steve as he deepthroated him. His blue eyes were enough to make Steve lightheaded.

_ Eight. _

"No no no no no no promises no promises."

Billy was running his fingers along his balls all while using his throat and his tongue together to create a rolling pressure along Steve's shaft. He raised his eyebrows, a threat to stop.  _ Seven. _

"Okay okay I'll do what you want just..make..me... _ yeah _ , right there."

_ Six. _

He grabbed a fist full of Billy's hair and pulled him away from his cock. The image of Billy's dark lashes and pearly white teeth beneath his smile was enough to push Steve over the edge. In seconds, Billy's face was splattered with cum. He laughed in what seemed like relief and brushed Steve's seed from his lashes with the back of his finger.

"Well that was fun," Steve said breathlessly. 

Billy nodded, coughed, and tossed him his clothes. "Get your keys. We're going for a ride, pretty boy."


	7. Backwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a sucker for Harringrove and working computers. So the passages ahead jump back and forth in time, according to the italicized and un-italicized segments. Italicized is the present, un-italicized is the past. Capiche? Capiche.
> 
> Point 7: The need to join a pack is instinctual. It is exceedingly rare for a werewolf to find peace in running alone. The bonds built amongst the wolf pack will carry over to the human side of the relationship/s
> 
> Warning: depictions of physical abuse ahead.

He still thought of her sometimes. His mother.

_ “Get on your knees, boy.” _

They said that she was the most beautiful werewolf to run the earth. She hadn’t been blond like him or brown or even red. No, her fur had been white as snow. They said that when she raised her head and howled, her body glistened with silver. 

_ Billy shuddered and fell to a crouch. The sudden movement made him nauseous. He heaved. _

She spent her days at the beach, coaching him. She never got into the water herself but she loved to watch him surf. “The waves can be so unpredictable, so powerful. But you -  _ you _ can take it. You’ve always been stronger than me, my sweet Billy-boy.”

_ “Swear to god, boy _ ,  _ if you throw up one more time on Susan’s carpet…” _

In their secret cabin in the woods at the far end of the beach she would tell him stories about faeries, werewolves and other creatures of lore. But, of course, her favorite of these were the werewolves. Together, they would draw pictures and string them up along the cabin. His were nothing more than clumsy scrawls. But her's…

_ Billy felt another wave of nausea coming and he curled into himself. He was crying, god damnit, why couldn’t he stop himself from crying? He gripped the rag with trembling fingers and pushed it weakly across the carpet. The smell of his own sickness, mixed with the dish soap on the towel, was a cutting reminder of his own pitifullness.  _

So beautiful was she. Sometimes, she and Billy would spend the night in the cabin. She’d bring sandwiches and candy which she kept tied up in an old grocery bag until it was time to eat. His favorite nights were the ones in which her male friends would come over. They’d bring fish and sausages and biscuits. When the moon was high they’d drink and roast meat over bonfires in the sand. 

_ Susan and Max were watching him from the door. He wished they’d go away, especially the little red-headed girl. He hadn’t wanted any of this. He hadn’t wanted any of them.  _

While his mom entertained her ‘most special’ friends in the cabin, he’d sit outside with the rest and take sips of alcohol and sing their rousing, bawdy songs until he was breathless with laughter. “Don’t tell dad,” she would always tell him the next morning, “it’s our little secret.” Of course, he’d never betray her. Those men with their long hair, twinkling eyes, and heavy beards were more fatherlike to him than Neil Hargrove could ever be.

_ “Neil, maybe we should take him to the hospital...look at his face.”  _

_ “No. Whatever this is, he brought it on himself. Those whores that he goes tramping around with probably gave him something. Am I right, Billy?” _

One night, his mother said that she wanted to show him something.

_ “No, sir!” Billy cried out as his father’s shoe met the old bruises on his stomach. _

Her face was still flush from that day’s beating. She took him by the hand and they ran all the way to the beach. He loved the way that her hair flew in the wind. He reached up to touch it and she laughed.

_ “So you’re messing with faggots again. I knew it was in your nature. The boy can’t help it, Susan. He’s a tainted whore just like his mother. DON’T JUST SIT THERE CRYING. I WANT YOU TO CLEAN THAT MESS BEFORE YOUR DISEASE SPREADS!” _

They waited for hours in the cabin. His mother seemed overly energetic, nervous even. Seeing her like that frightened him. “Mom, are you okay?” He had asked. “I’m fine, baby.” That night only one of her friends came. His name was Jay and he was Billy’s favorite. “You sure you wanna do this, angel?” He had asked her and she had nodded, biting her lip. Then, as Billy watched, she had bit him. “Watch, Billy!” She had grabbed him and held him tight as Jay began to shudder and grimace. “Watch and you’ll see the most beautiful thing. All those werewolves that I told you about. Well, they're here on this earth, Billy-boy. And something tells me that there’s one inside of you, too.”

_ Neil kicked him again. And again until his body was overwhelmed by shivers. A pathetic whine escaped from between his teeth. He wanted to be held. He wanted the warmth of skin-to-skin contact. He wanted someone to breathe reassurance into him. But there was no mommy no more and Daniel had left him. _

_ Steve.  _

_ In that moment all he wanted was to see Harrington’s face, to watch that dangerous look flare up in his dark eyes. _

That night, a young Billy had witnessed the most extraordinary thing. “See, Billy-boy,” his mother had told him. “Nobody can ever really hurt us.”

_ Neil kicked him again and he lost consciousness. _

* * *

The Hills, next night.

“There he is! Mister Too Good to Kiss His Own Ass!”

Billy grimaced and wiped his nose on his coat sleeve. It had begun to bleed at the most random times with no provocation. A young man stood up from a rotting log and spread his arms to greet Billy. Azi, it was always fucking Azi. The rest of the group looked up as Billy approached. They shifted their gaze when he looked directly at them.

“You girls been gossiping or what?” Billy asked. “And you, Azi, if I’m too good to kiss my own ass then why don’t you kiss it for me?”

“We boys have been having some problems. Care to chip in on the dilemna or are you too busy making a name for yourself amongst the ladies at that dairy farm school?”

“I’m listening.” Billy winced and lowered himself down onto an overturned grate. He knew what was coming. It was long overdue. The pack was getting restless, hungry. He saw it in their drawn faces and yellow eyes. Back home, they had been familiar with the territory and all of its opportunities. But here...the Hawkins Hills were like a deadland to them. All there was to do was sleep, fuck, eat, and wait to transform. They’d have to get moving again soon. But where? And when?

But, most importantly, how could he leave without exposing himself?

“Four matters of business! First!” Azi said. He began to pace, his fingers ticking his syllables beneath his tattered gloves. He pointed at a young redhead in the group. “Dee here said he got turned down for a job today. That’s the what, fourth time, Dee? Said nobody in the town trusts him cuz his face ain’t familiar. Same thing with the rest of the boys.”

“I told you idiots, stop applying to places where you stand out. No chick in the library is gonna hire some ugly moron in a leather jacket and an unshaved beard-”

“Second! Where’s Daniel? Haven’t seen him in a minute.”

Billy poked out his bottom lip, shrugged. “He’s a grown man. I’m not holding anybody hostage here. Next?”

“Hm.Thought you two were close.”

Billy reared up. “Wanna run that by me again, buddy?”

“You two just seemed really attached at the hip, if you get what I’m saying.”

“Like I said, I’m not holding anybody hostage here. Got that, asshole?”

“Third matter of business!” Another boy quickly stood up and shouldered himself between them.

“Third matter!” Azi proclaimed. “Who was that young wolf you let run with us the other day, huh? Are we in the habit of letting strangers come and go as they please now?”

“He’s straight,” was all that Billy said.

“Yeah, but I don’t know that.”

“You don’t know much of anything.”

“ _ O _ -kay!” Azi clapped. The rest of the pack began to rise from their various seats around the camp. They surrounded them with faces turned grim in anticipation. Billy growled ever so slightly, exposing the especially sharp teeth towards the back of his mouth. They stepped back, then looked to Azi for his next move. “So aggressive nowadays. Could it be because you caught something, a bug maybe? Does the big, bad wolf have fleas? Is that why you always go off at the start of every moon? To pick them off before the run?”

Billy grabbed him by his neck and pulled him close. He tried to hold it but a gruff cough escaped from his throat. “Are you challenging me, Azi? You know what happens when you do that.”

Azi licked his teeth. Though a smile played around his lips, his eyes danced fearfully beneath the heat of Billy’s gaze. “Let’s make a deal.” 

Billy glared at him, shocked, then laughed. He loosened his grip just long enough to provide Azi with a false sense of safety before grabbing the fringes of his jacket and pulling him back in.

“Speak quickly, Azi, your bullshist is boring.”

“Fight me. Or fuck me. If you tap out first then I get to take your place as leader of the pack. If I tap out well, then I have to leave.”

Billy laughed but he knew that he’d never be able to accept such a challenge. Not because he doubted his own strength in comparison to Azi's. Any other day, he knew that he’d be able to kick Azi's ass to the moon and back (he had done it before.) But he was not himself. He hadn’t been for a while. His body simply could not handle the sort of night that Azi was suggesting. 

He let him go and stepped back, still laughing. He turned in a circle and looked each one of his pack in the eye. “Is this what you want? Do you cowardly bitches really sit back all day and try to find ways to get me to pull my dick out for you?  ** _YOU CHOSE ME_ ** !” The sudden explosion of anger in his voice rolled through the hills and bounced back to them, seemingly louder than before. “And now... _ you challenge me? _ ”

He lashed out blindly and struck someone in the chest. “Dee. Eli. Jason. Timo. Ricky. Have I not led... _ so many _ runs? Have I not provided for you: brought you cigarettes and food and clothes off of my own back when you were too nervous to go out into their world and get it for yourself?!  _ I AM YOUR LEADER! _ ”

Billy walked away. He reached into his pocket with trembling hands and withdrew a single cigarette which he lit with a matchstick. He took a drag, looked up at the sky, then turned back to them. “I’m not gonna do it,” he simply said. “No way, man.”

They were silent and then a quiet voice said. “The Billy I know would never back down from a challenge, especially not against Azi.”

“Watch it, buddy,” Azi growled.

“I’m not proving myself to you queers...again.” Billy snapped.

“Why not, boss? What do you have to lose?"

They were all looking at him again. They reminded him of a litter of puppies, with their trusting eyes and raw expressions. He loved them, fuck, he just loved something about his pack. And despite the fighting and aggression and restlessness, they loved him, too. For wolves were social creatures at the end of the day. And he was right: they had chosen him, out of all the other werewolves that they had encountered they had followed him. They were too naive to be worried about the outcome of a competition between he and Azi. No, they already expected and even lusted for a display of their leader’s strength. Their time in the Hawkins hills had been rough. They craved a night of revelry and wildness and blood.

Azi was taller than him and heavier. But, most importantly, Azi still retained his health. Shivers racked Billy’s body. His stomach was bruised where his father had repeatedly kicked him. But he’d be damned if he let his boys down. He took off his shirt and shook his hair out. The boys howled and he howled with him and Azi suddenly seemed very unsure of himself.

“ _ Come on _ ,” Billy said, spit spraying from his mouth, “ _ let’s do this _ .”


	8. ...and Brazenly Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the contrast of Neil's parenting and Mrs. Harrington's. I hadn't even planned for them to be polar opposites, but her love for Steve just seemed to organically emerge from the shadow of Neil's brutishness. I have maybe 3 or 4 chapters after this and then that's all, folks!
> 
> Point 8: Can a human be made aware of the werewolf community? Yes! After all, it is hard not to notice the alternative behaviours of a werewolf child. The human who associates with a werewolf is bound to the same secrecy of their kind and can only share the reality of their existence on an calculated need to know basis.

The call had come at 8:49 pm, a fact that Mrs. Harrington had neglected to tell him.

“Why didn’t you tell me that someone called?Christ, mom, what if it was important?”

“Well, they didn’t tell me who they were. I figured it was one of your classmates pulling a prank!”

“Was is a male, female…?”

“It was a girl. She said it was about Billy. Sounded kind of rude if you ask me. Steve, is she referring to the Hargove boy?”

“Jesus, mom.” A door slammed. Steve shrugged on a jacket and sprinted down the stairs.

“Don’t you bring the good lord’s name into this, young man. I feel like he’d be very upset with your behaviour as of late. Where are you going now?”

“I’m going out. Is that a crime?”

Steve snatched his keys from the kitchen table. His mother watched anxiously from the staircase, wringing her hands. “All this going out and staying out late. Jim said you had a little accident out in the hills-”

“Jim’s a sack of shit.”

“Steve!”   
“Hey, I’m just telling the truth.”

“Steve…” 

Steve sighed. It was the pain in his mother’s voice that finally stopped him. He turned to look her in the face and she smiled a small, pitiful smile. “How’ve the turns been?” She was whispering, for his father was shuffling around upstairs.

“They’ve been fine, mom. Everything’s been sorted out.” He walked over to her and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I love you, okay?”

“And I love you too, baby.” She pulled back and planted her palms against his neck. “Look at how you’ve grown. So strong and... _ hairy _ ! Is that a little five o’ clock shadow I see growing there?”

“Mom!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She pulled him into a hug and inhaled deeply. “I know I haven’t been able to be there for you, sweetie. It’s hard raising a little fur baby when you can’t even turn yourself. Any other kid, well, you teach them how to play baseball and shuffle cards and clean their room.”

“Which you’ve tried.”

She laughed. “Unsuccessfully. But you...well all I can do is sit here and pray that you don’t get hurt and that you’ll find your way. I just wish there were others your age like you in Hawkins.”

_ Actually, there is somebody _ . But there was no way in hell that he was going to admit to his liaisons with the town’s resident chaotic neutral. The thought of Billy snapped him back into reality and he gently untangled himself from her arms. “Seriously, gotta go!”

“Why? Is it because of Billy? Why don’t you go hang out with that one girl, Nancy? She seems like such a sweetheart. And pretty too!”

“How do you know about me and Nancy?”

“I may not have a heightened sense of hearing like you do, but your dear old mother still has ears.  _ Better to hear you with, my dear!” _

_ _ She scrunched her pointer and middle fingers next to her head in a poor imitation of animal ears. Steve laughed and told her goodnight. “Give the old man a solid punch for me, will ya?”

He arrived at the Hargove residence by 9:10 pm, record time. All of the lights in the house were out except for the ceiling light glowing faintly in a single upstairs window. There, on the porch, a small silhouette sat hunched upon itself, its frizzy halo of hair illuminated in headlights. The figure roused itself and shielded its face from the headlight's glare.

“Billy? Is that you, buddy?” Steve called as he stepped out of the car. The figure shifted its hand.

“Gross. As if.” 

“Oh, wait, you’re his little sister, aren’t you? Max?”

“Not technically his sister. Don’t let him hear you call me that.”

“Huh. Was gonna say...not much of a resemblance.” He stood with his hands propped on his hips, suddenly feeling very awkward. The young redheaded girl before him seemed unwilling to say much more. Her feet were propped on her skateboard which she thumped against the porch step. The sound of it made him grit his teeth. “Is...is he in there? Is he okay? You’re the one that called me, right?”

She was avoiding his eyes. Instead of answering, she balled her fists in her coat pocket and hunched over against the cold. 

“Hey…” Steve knelt down until he was level with her. When she finally looked at him, her eyes were dark with distrust. But it wasn’t aimed at him. The distant fire that he saw there was ages-old. “Is there something that you’re not telling me?”

“Billy’s in trouble. No, not like that!” She exclaimed when Steve sprung up. She stood up and took a step back. Her next words came in a broken whisper. “I mean, he’s been getting into trouble. He doesn’t come home and when he does he looks...beat up and sick. More than usual, I mean. And Neil - my dad, I guess - he and Billy don’t get along so whenever Billy comes home late he…” she swallowed hard and angrily swiped at her face with the back of her hand. “Last night, Billy came home and he looked really bad, Steve. He was bleeding and he couldn’t stop coughing. And lately he’s been throwing up a lot. He tries to hide it but I hear him sometimes in the bathroom. It’s just getting worse and worse and I don’t know what to do.”

“Are your parents here?”

"No. They went out for the night. Won’t be back ‘til midday tomorrow. He’s upstairs. He hasn’t left his room all day. And everytime I call him he tells me to go away.”

“ _ Jeeeeez _ . Okay.” Steve put his hand to his head and glanced at the upstairs window. He could just barely make out the outline of a vanity dresser and a poster displaying a girl in a hot red bikini top. He wiped his upper lip, pointed at the door. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Door’s unlocked.”

Steve hesitated, then brushed past her. He heard the sound of her skateboard hit the concrete and he turned to look at her, only just realizing that she had called his name. The distrust had melted away, this time revealing something raw and almost childlike in her expression. She tried to sound hard but her eyes told a different story.

“Be careful, okay? There was another boy, back home. His name was Daniel. He and Billy were real close. Then Neil found out…” 

“Uh huh.” Steve didn’t like the mention of another boy’s name next to Billy’s but he repressed the feeling. “Hey, Max, let me ask you something. Why me? I mean, out of all the people in the town that you could have called-”

“I hear him talking to you in his sleep.” Here a small smile lit upon her freckled face. “I sort of pieced some things together. Don’t worry! I won’t tell.”

With that, she rode off into the night. 

Steve stood for a moment on the porch. Upstairs, Billy. Downstairs and outside, everything that made sense. He wasn’t particularly good under pressure and he sure wasn’t a nurse. A lot of things that she said had caught him off guard, especially the mention of the other boy, Daniel. But in the end, it was the thought of Billy talking about him that gave him the strength to walk into the strange house and climb the stairs. Though the house was neutral in design and barren of any distinguishable relics bearing his mark, Billy’s scent was everywhere. His presence graced the worn indent in the couch. It settled with the dust on the mantle and in between sparkling dishes resting in the dish rack. Steve wanted to touch everything in a quest to know more about him. How many times had he picked up the dish rag hanging from the kitchen cabinet? Had he rested his hand on his cheek, remote in lap, while watching some boring TV show? Where did he sit on the presumably rare occasions when they all sat down together for a family meal?

The sound of rock ‘n roll and the smell of cigarette smoke wafted from beneath the lit doorway at the end of the hall.

“Billy, are you there?”

Steve coughed as he approached. The music pulsed and throbbed in his sensitive ears, which he covered with both hands.

“Billy?”

The single wooden door was foreboding. Smoke curled from beneath it and around it as well as yellow fluorescent light. Was this the door to heaven or hell?

He pushed it open. Billy spun around to look at him. Blood dripped from his nose and onto his pale chest.

“Son of a bitch…” Billy muttered before stumbling forward and falling flat on his face.

* * *

“So then I said to her, ‘I’m sorry, next time you gotta be more specific when you say you wanna go cow tipping.’”

Billy laughed and bit his knuckle. The water had long since gone cold but he insisted that it was alright. It reminded him of the ocean. Steve lifted the tupperware bowl and poured water down his back and over his hair. It was amazing how Billy could get water on his face and not even flinch. He looked like a picture in a magazine: glossy, wet, perfect.

"Yeah…” Steve continued, mesmerized. He was watching the small rivers spilling from Billy's hair and onto his shoulders. Now that the spray and conditioner had been washed away, the smell of Billy’s hair was much more unique to him. “That little comment there got me a week in some bullshit correctional afterschool program. Dad was pissed. Mom tried to hide it, but she found it hilarious, though.”

Billy laughed again. “Last time I made a comment like that, it got me laid.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m sure every comment you make gets you laid.” Steve couldn’t help it. He bent down and buried his nose in Billy’s wet hair.

_ Hmph _ , Billy pressed his tongue against his cheek. They were silent for a moment, Steve’s cheek against Billy’s hair, Billy’s wet fingers gripping the edge of the porcelain tub. The morning light filtered through the window and illuminated them both. A finer eye might have seen the uncanny resemblance to a renaissance painting: an angel resting upon Narcissus, or an artist clinging to his muse. But there was nobody in the house but them and their eyes were trained on the crooked line of black birds in the distance, beyond the window.

“You think I’m weak,” Billy said, so quietly that Steve almost didn’t hear him.

“No, of course not-”

Billy reached back and caught Steve’s neck in the crook of his arm. “Don’t lie to me, pea brain!”

“Dude, watch the hair!”

“Or what, Harrington?”

"Or I’ll kiss you.”

Billy let him go and leaned back against the tub to survey his handiwork. Steve’s shirt was dripping wet and, though Steve tried to feign annoyance, the speckles of water that had transferred from Billy’s hair to his face didn’t bother him at all.

He leaned down and kissed him anyway. He was quickly losing control over his feelings for Billy. If he was honest with himself, he’d lost control that day that he had made out with Billy in front of everyone in the gym. The feeling of submission to Billy’s charm was almost as euphoric as transformation.

There, Billy sat below him with his face turned towards his. The image of him was so raw in that moment. For once, his face was unobscured by distance or darkness. Steve could see the individual lashes bordering his lovely eyes (and he had quite a few lashes, too. Much more than Steve remembered.) He could see the baby hairs bordering his face, the wide nose beneath his eyes, the rough bristles of hair sprouting above his strangely pink lips. This was Billy: his foe, his crush, his unexpected white night. It was in that moment that he realized that he, alone, shared something with Billy that no one else had. They had fucked, they had run together, they had hated and loved each other with a fierceness unparalleled. And now? He was his to stroke and kiss and babble with to his heart’s desire.

Billy stared up at him, a question in his strangely alert eyes.

“You’re not weak.” Steve said quickly. His mouth was moving faster than his mind. “You’re amazing.”

Billy closed his eyes - was he embarrassed? - and laughed. The quick contractions of his chest sent ripples through the water: water that smelled like him. Steve wanted to bottle it up and keep it under his pillow. Such was the magnetism of Billy Hargrove.

“But I have to ask you some things.”

“Aw, shit, Harrington.”

“Really!”

“Then ask,” Billy said suddenly. He leaned out of the bathtub and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from beneath his damp clothes. For a moment, Steve caught a glimpse of his wonderfully sculpted ass. He was dazed and confused but there was no better time for an inquiry.

“You and I...what are we? I mean, where do we go from here?”

Billy laughed again. “We fucked. We transformed together. And now you’re giving me a bath in my parents' house. Gee, why don’t you use your head for once, Steve?”

Steve twisted his lips and nodded. It was a fair answer. It was a truth wrapped in sarcasm but a truth that warmed his heart nonetheless.  _ So you’re my boyfriend,  _ he thought but couldn’t bring himself to say it. Images of them together flashed across his mind: he and Billy in the school parking lot, he and Billy fucking in the hills post-transformation, Billy coming over to dinner in his best white button-up, he and Billy lying in bed together.

“Next question.” Billy said. The smell of a cigarette filled the bathroom and Steve wrinkled his nose.

“You’re the wolf. The blond wolf who attacked me in the hills that one night.”

Billy exhaled. “Sorry about that. Didn’t know who you were.”

"It's fine," Steve said dryly. "Why did you make me bite you on the full moon, if you were going to transform anyway? It doesn't make any sense…"

Billy was quiet for a long time. He raised the cigarette to his lips, sucked, and stared out the window. Steve saw the blankness in his eyes and knew that he didn't want to hear what he had to say, and Billy didn't want to tell it. Part of him wanted to recant his question but it was too late. He couldn't let naivete run his side of their partnership.

"I don't...I  _ can't _ transform every moon. I used to. It was soooo easy, letting it happen. And then my mom, one day she left. Just left me alone with that  _ bitch _ . And then Neil, he started putting his hands on me. Not like that," Billy said in response to Steve stiffening behind him. "The fucker could throw a punch, though. And the older I got, the harder he hit until uh…." Billy looked down into the water, clenched his dripping hand against the tub. "Well I guess the old man just beat it outta me."

"No way! I'm so sorry, man."

Billy shook his head. His breathing had grown heavier. His lashes fluttered against strands of damp hair. "I still don't know how it happened. But one day he hit me so hard that I just up and ran. Called my mom from a payphone at the edge of town, begged her to come back but she couldn't, Steve, the bitch wouldn't. That was the night of a full moon. I thought I'd transform as usual and maybe be able to run it out but I didn't. I mean I did, I did transform. I became this hybrid thing. Half-boy, half-wolf. God, Steve, it was fucking painful." He coughed and took a hurried drag of his cigarette. Steve wanted to slap the ugly little stick out of his shaking hands but the pity that he felt then was too overwhelming. He tried to imagine Billy as a scared little boy alone in the woods, his body protruding with oddly-angled bones and blood-slick tufts of fur. He'd never experienced that, never knew that such a thing was possible and for one terribly selfish moment he was glad of the fact that his transformations had always been smooth and uninterrupted.

"Ever since that night it was a 50/50 chance whether or not I'd transform. There were days where I just stopped caring about her and I'd beat the shit out of people - and I found that if I stopped caring enough I'd be able to do it. But you can't just cut 'em all out Steve." He paused, glared at Steve's reflection in the mirror in front of them.

"So you found a pack."

"I found a pack. Several rough 'n tough 'em boys just like me. Now  _ they  _ could transform but had no idea that I couldn't. On the moons where I couldn't feel it, I'd hide out, tell 'em that I was doing my own thing. And then Daniel.  _ Fucking Daniel." _

Fucking Daniel. Why did the name make Steve's stomach turn? Billy laughed softly, steeped as he was in some memory that Steve was only a spectator to.

"Daniel was one of the boys. He found me on one of those nights, only half transformed and ugly as shit. Told me that if he bit me then everything would be okay. And it was! Obviously, you know what happens when you bite someone before a moon." Billy whipped his head up and trapped Steve with a devious stare. Steve hoped that Billy didn't see the melted look on his face. "Fucking Daniel...that was my boy…"

"So what happened to him?" Steve asked quickly, his voice choked with annoyance. He didn't want to hear Billy praise his relationship with another man. Billy shrugged, raised the cigarette to his lips, and found it snubbed with water.

"Good ol' Neil found us in a... _ compromising  _ position one night, a few months back. Called me a fag and moved us out here. He thought the change in scenery would straighten me out. He doesn't know that I'm really a -"

"Right."

"So I called the boys, called Daniel, had them meet me out here. Told them that we can start again in this little town of Hawkins, granted we kept things  _ hush hush _ . But Daniel's a bitch, couldn't take it. So he left me. He's not like you, Harrington."

_ He's not like you.  _ Steve scrunched his toes in delight. He thought back to the day when he caught Billy mourning a loss in the locker rooms.  _ Have you ever lost someone that you loved, Harrington?  _ He had asked him. He wondered if he had been referring to Daniel or his mother.

"He's not like you because he doesn't matter. I don't care about his weak guts." Billy was saying.

_ Liar,  _ Steve thought. But was it a playful thought or a serious one, he didn't know.   
"So there you have it."

Billy braced his hands against the tub once more and lifted his magnificent body. Water tumbled from him like fountains, as if Billy was an ecosystem flushed with a thunderous deluge. Steve stood up, unsure of himself, and simply watched Billy wrap a yellow towel around his waist. Billy coughed once into his palm and spat a bloody clod of phlegm into the toilet. 

"How'd you like my little autobiography? Think Mrs. G. would be proud?"

Mrs. G. was their English teacher. Steve poked his bottom lip out, shook his head and picked up a small hand towel.

"Didn't like it at all," he said as he began to run the towel along the curves of Billy's face. "You do know what happens when you get bitten too much, right? This sickness thing you got goin' on? That's all from the bite."

"Figured," Billy mumbled platonically.

"So…"

"So what, Harrington?"

"So I can't bite you anymore."

Billy became very still. His eyes seemed to zone in on Steve's face and for a moment Steve feared that he was going to punch him.

"Is that so?" 

Steve didn't notice Billy's hands clenched into a fist. He froze, a deer in the headlights, and felt his breath catch in his throat. Billy scrunched up his face, cocked his hand and then, after a brief second, let his body relax. A smile inched across his lips, more like a grimace. "Why?" He asked in a tone that implied that Steve had just made a hilarious mistake.

"Because I love you and I'm not going to let you kill yourself."

Billy nodded, and looked away. For a moment they simply stood there, warm body to warm body, with a load of curious tension between them. Billy sniffed, swiped the back of his hand beneath his nose. He nodded. "Yeah," he muttered but he was pleased about something. "Whatever."

"Billy?"

"Hm."

"Look at me. No more biting. Let's get outta here, okay? I don't know, take the pack, and just leave. Maybe it'd be nice to start all over again somewhere, somewhere better than Hawkins. That's what you need."

Billy sniffed in response.

"And maybe you can tell the pack. Get it off your chest, man. I mean, you're their leader, for chrissake. They'll understand."

That night he was gentle with Billy. He took in every heartbeat, every rough and knotted patch of battleworn skin. He held his eyes and let every slow moment have its place in their shared history.  _ You're perfect, you're perfect, you're beautiful.  _ He could not get enough of his voice, his laughter, the shudders that darkened his otherwise stoic face. 

"Do you love me?"

"More than anything in the world."

* * *

Eventually, he had to leave. Billy didn't know when that 'bitch sister' of his or his parents would be back. It was almost a relief for Steve, seeing Billy lying there asleep as he snuck away. He felt as if there was so much between them and so much more still to do. He needed space to think and to analyze the miracle unfolding before him.

The Sun hung high in the sky as he stepped out of the Hargrove residence. There, leaning against his car was a young man that he had never seen before. Though the heat was sweltering, he wore a distressed leather jacket over his shoulder. When he saw Steve, he pinched the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it into the grass.

"Hey, buddy, what's the deal?" Steve yelled. The man smirked and pushed himself away from the car.

His eyes weren't friendly as he walked towards Steve. On the contrary, the look of malice within them made the hairs on the back of Steve's neck rise.

"Figured I'd drop something off." The young man said. He was close to Steve. Suddenly, he leaned forward and brought his nose inches from Steve's neck. "You smell like him," he rumbled.

"Back off, man."

"No,  _ you  _ back off!" The young man whipped the jacket from his shoulders and shoved it against Steve's chest. "You don't know jack shit about what you're getting yourself into."

"No, obviously I don't." Steve said awkwardly and sidled along the side of his car. "I thought I cancelled my subscription to the Jehovah's witness program yesterday."

The young man giggled and watched Steve climb into his car. He lay a curiously soft brown hand on the rim of Steve's window and peered at him with yellow-brown eyes. "You think you're special,  _ kemosabe _ ? Billy's a user. He'll use you until you break. And you'll keep crawling back for more because you're a bitch. We all are when it comes to him." The man jerked his head towards the Hargrove residence. "Ever tried telling him  _ no _ ?"

_ Just did,  _ Steve thought but refrained from telling him. He was too busy staring into the man's face, desperately trying to ascertain whether or not he had seen him before. The young man backed away and thumped his hand against the hood of Steve's car.

"Try it. Just you wait and see."

With that, the man hunched his shoulders and walked away, his gaze fixed pensively on the ground beneath his feet.

_ Weird,  _ Steve thought as he backed out of the driveway. He briefly wondered if he should tell Billy about the incident but he didn't feel right waking him. 

On the way back to his house he drove past Max riding her skateboard. She saw him, gave him a pinched smile, and disappeared in his rearview mirror. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCREPANCY ALERT: I said in a previous chapter that Daniel 'was never to be seen again in Hawkins.' Well that's a lie. It just felt so right to have him lurking around now at such a critical point in Billy and Steve's relationship. 
> 
> Mwah. I love y'all, thanks for reading. I have the next two chapter written, just have to edit and then post.


	9. Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with me, guys? Here, have an internet hug! I figured it was time to shed a little light on Hopper's experience as a werewolf, especially as it pertains to some advice that he'll be giving a certain heartbroken soul in the next chapter. This story's coming to a close in about three our four chapters and it's breaking my heart.
> 
> Don't hate me if I got the years wrong. This is a flashback, and Hopper should be in his 20s in the first segment of the chapter. And in the second segment it goes back to present day (aka Billy/Steve's time.)
> 
> Point Nine: A werewolf who misbehaves must go through a deliberation of their peers, whereby they will be isolated from the outside world as a jury of Elders decide their fate.

DTAH

"Death to all humans."

New York, 1965.

"This room...should  _ not  _ look like this. Look around you. We shouldn't be sitting in the basement of Danny's mom's apartment. We should be in a dining hall or the office of some  _ towering  _ building."

The young woman flipped her hair and swept a critical glare across the room. Her audience consisted of ten men around her age. They sat below her, their eyes rapt with attention, hands braced against their knees or tucked across their chests. The following week there were only eight men. One had gotten married and the other had decided to attend school.

" _ They  _ have monuments to their forefathers. They have  _ the god damn white house  _ for their elected officials. And what do  _ we  _ have? I'll be lucky if I can get my great grandfather into a decent nursing home."

The following week only five remained, amongst them a young Jim Hopper. Everytime their eyes met, a smile lit across his face. He was proud of her and disgusted by the DTAH members who abandoned them. He was keenly aware of the shrinking support for their cause. Every week, the number of folding chairs that they set out decreased. Her lectures drew less applause. Her appearance became haggard, feral at times, but still she persisted.

" _ My great grandfather,"  _ she spat as she spoke. Her eyes rolled loosely between the four men sitting in front of her. When they flashed upon Jim, he quickly looked away. "When I was in school they asked me to write a report on a family member who inspired me. Do you know who I  _ wanted  _ to write about? My ancestor Richard who held off  _ three human  _ hunters while he was transformed.  _ And he killed 'em all!  _ But noooooo. Elder Zen said I had to choose a human so that I wouldn't  _ expose myself. _ "

That following week, there were only three left. Her, Jim, and a fellow DTAH member named Q. At the end of the meeting, Q rose from his seat and clapped Jim on the shoulder.

"Take care of her, Jim."

"You're not coming back?"

Q stuck out his bottom lip and shook his head. He shot a quick look at the girl over his shoulder.  _ That girl's cuckoo crazy,  _ his eyes said. Jim jerked his shoulder away from Q's hand and called him a coward and a traitor.

"What have humans ever done for you?" He asked him.

"Nothing. And you know what? Maybe it's better that way."

The next and final week, the girl came and sat down next to Jim. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and blew a lost strand of hair away from her face. 

"Hiding, hiding, hiding, Jimmy. All we do is hide," she croaked. "And for what? Because they can't handle the thought of werewolves. What do you think they'd do to us, Jimmy? Enslave us? Lock us up and study us? Try to drain our power?"

"I don't know."

"No you don't. And neither do I. But I do know this...what if…." she straightened up and fixed him with a mischievous gaze. "What if...there were  _ only  _ werewolves on this planet?  _ We'd  _ be at the top of the food chain, wouldn't have to hide or compete for resources. We'd be free to honor our own existence without fear of repercussion."

"I mean yeah I guess." Honestly, Jim couldn't imagine a world with just werewolves. It seemed like it would be a very small world. Besides, there were humans that he was fine with. She was looking at him then. Her sunken eyes sparkled with a hopefulness that he hadn't seen in a long time. So he leaned in and kissed her. But her body stiffened against his touch and he immediately knew that he had done something wrong. 

"Whoa. Okay. Jimmy." She placed a hand between them and leaned back a few inches. "I want you to know that I see you as a brother...alright?"

"...yeah of course. I just um…" He felt as if everything beneath his skin was slowly melting. "You know I'm just really inspired by what you're saying."

"You are? I mean, that's great. A systematic operation is what we need. A revolution. A  _ genocide _ , even."

"A  _ what _ ?"

"Nothing. Not that. No. What I mean to say is...I guess we need to scare them a little bit. Remind them that there's a power higher than their own." Suddenly she perked up. The wind slid through the single open window and whistled around them, blowing her hair in wispy strands across her face. The room was quiet save for the creaking of the tenants upstairs. The conspiratorial tone of her voice both excited and worried him. "I've always had this idea, Jimmy. There's these humans that stay out in that little abandoned lot near the water. Druggies, I think. Anyway they're squatters, I don't think anybody ever really checks on them. And I asked Zen about 'em, he said they're not one of us. What if...what if we go there and  _ unleash the wolf on them." _

She jerked back and clapped her hands across her mouth. The idea was beyond exhilarating to her, he could see that much. But there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't like feeling at odds with her. After all, he was all that she had left.

"Unleash the wolf?" He laughed awkwardly, hoping that maybe she'd laugh with him and admit that it was all a silly joke. She nodded, her hands still covering her mouth.

"You know. Like. Rough them up a little bit. Scare the pants off them. What are they gonna do, tell the police that they were attacked by a wolf? What's the likelihood of that? Cops'll probably think that they're on something. Oh, and I found out that if you bite a person before the full moon they'll turn  _ like that."  _ She snapped and he jumped. "Oh come on Jim! This could turn into something. Just for one night let's see what it feels like to have all of the power. Then maybe you'll believe me, maybe you'll understand our right to a  _ revolution." _

_ _ "But...but...the bite...the wolf...what you're trying to do is kill someone!"

"Noooooo," she rolled her eyes and fluttered her chapped lips. She reached out and folded his hands in hers. "When you transform after the bite, you're still semi-lucid. Like, conscious in the wolf's body."

"Gnarly."

"Righteous." She lifted his hands and pressed them to her lips. "That's why you're gonna bite  _ me  _ and  _ I'm  _ gonna spook them. Come on, Jimmy, don't be a sack of shit."

"I'm not!"

"Then let's do it. Tonight. No, now."

" _ Now? _ "

"Now." 

"O-okay."

Jim didn't know what he was doing or why he was doing it as he took her hand and let her lead him to the doors. Once outside, the sudden gusts of wind lifted their hair and planted patches of snow on their jackets. They slid into her car and sped down the quiet street. She was ecstatic, frighteningly so. She switched between flipping through the channels and complimenting his courage, her hands shaking all the while. It occurred to him that what they were about to do could have grave consequences but Jim wasn't a punk, and he'd be damned if he let her see him as such. "We make a great team, Jimmy. And when the world is finally ours ...gosh, you'll thank me."

She turned the car into an empty lot housing a few run down trailers. Beyond, the water roared and lapped viciously at the boulders bordering the lot. A single nocturnal creature jumped and skittered across the dusty pavement, scattering gravel and trash behind it. Inside the middle trailer, a single yellow light glowed stoically amongst the ruin. He could sense the people inside. The smell of something burning wafted through the air and made him wrinkle his nose. 

"Ready?" She smiled at him again and pulled a pocket knife from her coat.

"What's that for?" He asked in alarm.

"Just in case things go south of the equator...which they won't. Okay so...we're gonna knock, say it's an emergency and - oh I don't know, tell them that I was jumped or something and that I need to use their phone. Then, once I'm inside -  _ wham  _ \- you bite me and watch me work. Got it?"

"Got it," he answered dryly but she was already out of the car, walking towards the trailer. Her boots made a dull crunching sound as they met the gravel and for some reason the sound irritated him. He quickly hopped out and followed her towards the light. She was fake-limping, her shoulders hunched in pretend agony as she approached the door. She raised her hand to knock but then suddenly turned around and looked him dead in the face 

"You do this for me...and I don't know, maybe you'll be less of a brother and more of a rugged neighbor next door type."

She knocked before he could respond. There was the sound of a sudden startling within then all was quiet. Then, a reedy female voice called, "Who's there?"

"Oh my gosh, can you help me? I've been hurt!" The girl called then gave Jim a pointed look. He cleared his throat and yet when he spoke his voice was weak with fear.

"It's...it's my girlfriend! We were jumped and I think they broke her leg!"

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on into eternity. Then, a woman with mousy brown hair nosed her way past the newspaper curtains and fixed them with a cautious scowl. 

"She don't look hurt to me."

"Please, can we just use your phone? We'll stand outside."

"Don't got a phone here. Go next door, they may be able to help."

Jim could see her gritting her teeth as she tried to come up with a new plan. Then, suddenly, the door creaked open and the mousy haired woman stuck her arm through the crack.

"Here," she said and shook a roll of gauze at them.

"Thanks," the girl said and then added, "do you have any tape?"

The arm retreated and in less than a second the girl had flung her weight against the door and forced it open. Jim watched in horror as she tumbled on top of the woman, then he rushed in after her. There was a scream and an overweight man lifted himself up from the tattered couch.

"Alright assholes, nobody move!" The girl retrieved another knife from her belt and brandished it wildly at the couple. The woman flinched and the girl swung clumsily at her arm, leaving a bright red line along the top of her elbow. "Me and my partner here will gut you like a couple of human fishes if you try and act crazy! Hopper!" She flung her arm back and he backed away instinctively. "Bite me!"

"Huh?"

"Don't be a bitch! I said bite me! Hard!  _ NOW _ !"

Hypnotized by her rage, he crept forward and sunk his teeth into the soft skin on her wrists. The man and woman watched in horror as her back arched to the point of breaking. Then, as she shuddered and fell to all fours, Jim noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look and there, peeking around the corner of the door, was a little blonde haired girl around the age of six. "Shit," he muttered. "Danny?"

But it was too late. Danny was rising on all fours except she was no longer Danny. Ashen grey fur had sprouted from her skin with a tremendous snapping and creaking of bones. Her lips were twitching and shortening. Her snout opened wide around a still-human scream and she stumbled forward on shaggy legs. The family screamed and Jim shook his head, suddenly dizzy. Through his wavering vision, he saw the wolf lunge and snap it's teeth at the petrified couple. The little girl was crying now, her words garbled in horror at the sight of what Danny had become.

"Hey!" Jim yelled and only then realized that he had been covering his ears. "Hey," he said again and spun around to confront the girl. She bunched her fists and screamed at him again. The sight of her mouth open and strung with pearlescent saliva did something to his heart and he took a step forward, still brandishing his knife in his hand.

_ Shut up or she'll hurt you _ , he wanted to say but there was the sound of something crashing and he spun around again. The Grey wolf had the father's arm clamped in her jaws as he struggled to get away. As Jim watched, he grabbed a lamp and smashed it mightily against the broad head. The wolf shivered, released her grip, then clamped down even harder as the mousy haired woman watched helplessly. Her hands found a nearby wrench and she swung it at the wolf. It found her head with a deep  _ thunk  _ and the wolf barked in surprise. The man had fallen limp, his eyes empty with shock, and the wolf turned towards the woman. It was then that Jim realized that Danny meant to kill her and that perhaps she had meant to kill them all along. 

"Not my mommy!" The little girl cried in dismay as the Grey wolf crouched, its yellow eyes set on the woman. He had to stop it, he realized. It was now or never.

"Whoa, Danny, whoa!" He called. The grey wolf paused and turned the heat of its gaze on Jim. He could still sense her, the human within, and the disappointment in her eyes was like an arrow in his gut. Then, she sniffed the air, and set her gaze towards the girl. All the air seemed to get sucked out of Jim's chest and he straightened his arms between them.

"You don't want to do this, I know you can hear me!"

The wolf lunged and Jim caught it by its broad neck just in time. Her warm body thrashed in his grip and he struggled to hold on. He lost his grip and suddenly they were both on the ground: he, on his back and her scrabbling for a foothold so that she could get the girl. For a moment he lost his hold and she escaped him but he was up in less than a second. Blindly , he reached out and caught a grip of the only thing near him: her tail. The wolf yelped, twisted back, and sunk all of her teeth into his hand. Blackness descended upon his vision then as he gripped his hand in pain. He could sense the mousy haired woman flying over him, hear her cry out as the Grey wolf attacked either her or her daughter and he knew that he had to stop her. He was the only thing standing between them and a slow, painful death. 

He braced his hands against the floor and threw himself blindly towards the commotion. Again, his strong arms wrapped around the wolf's body but this time he sunk his teeth into her neck. 

"Go! In the bathroom! Bathroom!" He cried against the gushings of blood and saliva filling his mouth. The woman lifted her daughter and carried them bodily into the small enclosure where she locked the door with a loud clunk. The Grey Wolf threw its neck and attempted to throw Jim off with a sudden buckle of her back but Jim was too strong. For he had become resolute in his course of action. Though she whined and bit and scratched, Jim held her down. 

Hours passed as the half moon slowly gave way to the pre-dawn glow. He didn't know when he woke, or what had happened. But when he opened his eyes he was covered in blood and Danny lay beneath him, naked and pale. Slowly, gently, he pushed himself up and surveyed the small trailer. Everything was a mess: the small couch and tv had both been upended. Blood spattered the walls. Glass had been shattered, and at some point, plates had been thrown. Still, the father lay unmoving in the corner. Jim stood on wobbly legs and pressed his fingers against the man's neck. No pulse.

Still shaking, he made his way to the bathroom and knocked lightly on the door. 

"Is it over?" A raspy voice called. He could hear sniffling and the quiet muttering of the little girl. He didn't respond and instead walked to the middle of the room, fingering a tuft of greasy hair. He tried not to look at Danny or the man or anything really as he uncovered a phone buried beneath the junk on the kitchen table.

The man on the other end of the line was quiet as he listened to Jim speak. When all was said and done he simply thanked Jim for his courage and promised to be there soon. Jim couldn't bear to wait inside of that tiny trailer so he pushed the crooked door open and stepped outside. The sound of waves and cooling sea breeze was refreshing but not enough. So he sat upon the steps and buried his face in his hands. After a few minutes, he heard a door inside the trailer opened. Then, he heard the scream.

Jim couldn't have been more happy to see Elder Wolf Zen arrive on his old, beat up motorcycle. In tow were a few more of their kind, all grim and well-past Jim's age. Zen surveyed him with a pensive look then sighed.

"Wipe the blood off your face, boy." He said as the others climbed into the trailer to take stock of the situation. Jim could hear the woman demanding to know who they were and what they were doing there. He tried to block out the sound of her voice. Zen hitched up his pants and kneeled to a squat before Jim. "You did the right thing," he said simply as he pressed a handkerchief against Jim's nose. 

"What's gonna happen to them?"

"We place some of our kind in the police force for a reason. We'll say it was an attack by a rabid dog, accompanied by methamphetamine-induced hallucinations of two human beings transforming into wolves. We'll monitor them for a couple of years and, assuming there'll be no trouble, that'll be that."

"And Danny?"

"Don't worry about that. But, Hopper, speaking of the police. You showed a lot of restraint last night and I am very proud of you. We need more young werewolves like you in the human police force. Good to keep an eye on things."

Right at that moment a pair of men stepped out of the trailer, Danny's nude body hung between them. Jim watched her lifeless hand flop beneath her and then his eyes quickly cut to the little girl standing in the doorway. Her brow was furrowed as she sucked upon her thumb. He could see it in her eyes as they followed Danny: questions forming that were not yet ready to be clothed in words. Then, her eyes met his and his heart skipped a beat. He had hoped that maybe, just maybe, she'd smile or show at least some form of relief. But instead her eyes seemed to darken as they crossed his and she spun around, her face twisted in horror as she ran for her mom.

* * *

  
  


Berkeley, California 1984

The Berkeley sanctuary had been established as a sort of emergency gathering place for werewolves in the Bay Area. Its prime had long since passed, however. Nowadays, Elder wolves moped around, watching the tides of their world and interfering as necessary. Hopper sat awkwardly at a lopsided wooden table, his eyes rolling over the heavy black binders bending the metal racks that held them. Somewhere, amongst the yellowed and rancid-smelling pages, was his name preceded by the names of his family and others just like them. Centuries of information. He could pluck a book down and track the bloodline of a wolf in Antartica. Which he would have gladly done just to get away from this meeting.

The woman in front of him stirred her tea slowly, her face long-since set in sadness. "You could have at least brought me some of whatever you've been drinking. I'm so sick of dandelion tea."

"I haven't been drinking, Danny."

"Your breath says otherwise. And anyways. Everyone here knows you've become the town drunk." She raised her eyebrows and sipped her tea. Whenever she moved, the shackles on her ankles jangled. "Fucking Indiana. How's that?"

"Awww, man." Jim reached in his pocket for his cigarettes, caught the disapproving eye of a passing Elder, and proceeded to light one anyway. "How'd you know I moved to Indiana?"

She swallowed and circled her finger in the air. "I know about everyone here. That's all they do. Talk. 'Oh, so and so transformed for the first time' or 'so and so didn't give birth to one this year.' Yeah, it's pretty fucking boring. This has been the longest deliberation of my  _ life.  _ So anyway. Heard you lost your daughter. Sucks."

Hopper cracked his knuckles slowly, one at a time. He was used to people bringing up his daughter in order to catch him off guard. But for some reason, the thought of Danny knowing irked him. Of course, werewolves knew everything about each other but the way that she mentioned it seemed hostile. It was obvious to him that she was jealous. She had been a prisoner within the Berkeley sanctuary ever since the incident. While he had grown, graduated, and ultimately lived a productive life in the outside world she had withered into a powdery, and pathetic pulp of a person. Her life was sorting through binders and listening to old werewolves saying the same names over and over again. To say that she was living vicariously through literally every other wolf was an understatement. As if seeing the disappointment in her eyes she snickered and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers.

"You know…" She exhaled sensuously and dragged her finger along the stains blooming around the table. "When I first heard about it, the first thing that I thought of was that little girl in the trailer. How we almost killed her."

"Now you know damn well know that had nothing to do with me."

"Didn't hear you saying no when we walked into the trailer. Didn't hear you saying no  _ when I handed you the pocket knife _ ." She grinned and sucked her cheeks in as she took a drag of the cigarette "No, Jimmy,  _ we  _ almost killed her. And you know what? Maybe there's a part of her that killed your daughter. Because, you know, karma is a  _ reallllll  _ bitch and I wouldn't be surprised if that's how you got yours."

Jim shot up and threw a sparkly Hallmark card on the table between them. "Merry Christmas, asshole. And don't you ever let me hear you talking about my daughter again."

He turned to go. Danny quickly stood up, her chair making an awful screeching sound as it was dragged against the wooden floor. She was laughing, but the chains prevented her from following him. "I don't need your pity, old boy! You should be in here with  _ me!  _ You're just as responsible for the death of that little girl's dad as I am. Thanks for the cigarette, hypocritical filth! I'll catch up to you one day!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like, because she is an angry and vengeful werewolf, Danny would make an interesting mentor for Billy. Not in this story, but perhaps in the future?
> 
> Now, if you excuse me, I'm off to start my Witcher smut fic.


	10. ....and prejudice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays. This is my....rough...present to you!
> 
> In the last chapter's notes I was like 'blah blah blah Hopper's giving advice in chapter 10.' Turns out I meant chapter 11.
> 
> *hic* Too much eggnog, boys and girls.
> 
> Point 10: The numbers for the human population far exceed those of the werewolves'.

The cold Christmas air gusted in through the window, carrying with it the sound of laughter and far-off music. Billy snapped the window shut and attempted to untangle himself from the phone cord. Heavy rock music had flooded the room and he stumbled towards the radio, tripping along the way.

"I told you a thousand times, Annie, I'm not taking you to the Christmas dance. What? You'll do what?" He switched the volume knob to zero and squinted at himself in the mirror. "Now...that's what your  _ sister' _ s for. Got it? Don't call me again." He was about to drop the phone when he heard a second female's voice crackling through the line. He held it up to his ear once more. "Hello? Stacey? You wanna do what? Well...that's what Annie's for!"

He let the phone go and it rattled away from him. Slowly, he leaned in towards the mirror and surveyed his candle lit reflection with approval. His hair was bouncier than ever. The skin on his furrowed brow was unblemished and glowing. He puckered his lips and winked at himself.  _ Dashing _ , he thought as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled. But it wasn't all his doing, he knew that. It had been months since Harrington had last bit him and he had never felt better. Sure, he missed transformation but he had made a promise. And Billy wasn't punk enough to go back on a promise. That, and he didn't want Steve to think that he was weak. He knew that Steve expected him to come begging for a bite any day now but he wanted to prove him wrong. He wanted to feel like  _ he  _ was the one with his foot on Steve's neck, leveraging his will above everything else.

He cocked his eyebrow as he imagined his rendezvous with Steve that night.  _ Don't tell me you're gonna bitch out on me  _ \- there, he'd say it just like that with his eyebrow slanted and his chest exposed. Billy could see it already: Steve would smile in response, hitch his shoulders with his hands in his jacket pocket, and say something wild. Even when he was just joking around, Steve had a way with words. It was like he could never be caught off guard no matter how many times Billy called him a bitch, a fag, a princess. It was always with that same watchful and unblinking look that Steve accepted Billy's aggression. Even when they fucked, Steve would look him up and down, pierce him with understanding and unabashed craving. 

Or was it love?

Billy's dresser was littered with the yellowed papers and sketches that he had pulled from the back of his closet. He didn't want Neil to find these when he was gone but he didn't want to take them either. So he resolved to bury them deep within the trash bin outside of his house. Aside from that, he would be leaving behind the posters and hair sprays and school books. All that he needed was a bag of clothes, his partner in crime, and his pack. 

He took one last look around the room and waited for some sort of sentimentality to breeze through the moment. But the truth was, he wouldn't miss any of it: not the pendants hanging from the wall, not his music collection, not the smell of cigarettes, sweat and cologne that was so unique to his room. He had been carted around so often that the little square building housing the Hargrove family was nothing more than a decorated Christmas box, the inhabitants loud ornaments that rolled around and got in his way.

Billy felt as much remorse for his departure as he did for the candlelight that disappeared beneath a glob of spit. He slung his bag over his shoulder and shuffled down the hall. The door to his 'sister's room was shut but he knew that she was at the dance, most likely with that Sinclair boy from down the street. His parents had agreed to chaperone so the house was empty.

Or so he thought.

He thumped down the stairs and swung himself wildly around the bannister. He was about to open the front door when a rough voice called out to him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Billy's hand tightened on the doorknob. He grit his teeth at the sound of Neil's voice. 

"I'm going to the dance,  _ sir _ ."

There was the sound of springs creaking as Neil lifted himself from the living room couch. He approached him, slowly, warily. "The dance started hours ago. It's almost over now."

"Yeah, well, I'm goin' to the after party."

Neil looked at him strangely then, as if he were something miniscule and incomprehensible. It was a look that Billy had seen many times before. He already knew what Neil was thinking as he took in the entirety of him. He watched his father's eyes travel across his single earring, his hair, his parted shirt and suddenly he felt so out of place in his own skin.  _ How did I raise such a son,  _ Neil was asking himself,  _ what is wrong with you _ ?

"You're leaving…" he said.

The bag suddenly felt heavier in Billy's hand. He didn't even know that Neil had seen it. He held Neil's gaze steadily though he felt his heart begin to thunder. Hatred choked his throat and twisted his lips.  _ Of course I'm leaving _ , he wanted to spit back,  _ nothing you've done makes me want to stay with you.  _ But he refused to answer him. He'd let his father come to his own conclusions, as egocentric and far from the truth as they might be, so that he wouldn't have to explain himself. Neil furrowed his brow.

"Why?"

Somewhere, a clock was ticking. Its sharp metronome echoed through the house and seemed to pound with his very pulse. 

"I don't have to answer to you anymore," he said in a quivering voice. As he spoke, a tear dislodged itself from his lashes and splattered on the hardwood floor but still his face remained set. 

"Is that so?"

Neil reached out and Billy ducked. He straightened up quickly and glanced at his shoulder where his father's fingers had found a lock of his hair. He looked at Neil, his mouth parted in disgust and surprise. 

"So like your mother." He stood petrified as his father brought his hair to his nose and inhaled deeply. The house yawned and creaked in its emptiness and Billy wished that somebody, anybody else was there. "Always scampering around and hiding from her problems. I thought you were stronger than that, Billy…"

Billy rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling.  _ He's lying to you he's lying he's lying,  _ he told himself as tears began to fall freely. Why was he crying? He hated himself for it. 

"You're really going to leave your dear old dad? And Susan? And your sister?"

_ He's playing with you, Billy. Any second he's going to hurt you. _

_ _ "You're my  _ son _ ."

Billy drew his eyes back down and for a split second felt something akin to heartache when he saw the look on his father's face. Then he thought of Steve and the promise that he had made. He turned and placed his hand on the door handle once again. "I have to go -"

Neil rushed him then and trapped him against the door. In a single swift movement, he had pinned Billy's wrists between them and ground his forearm into the back of Billy's neck. Billy winced against the cold stained glass of the front door window and prayed that it would be over before anyone saw him from the outside.

"You're  _ my  _ son, do you understand me? Mine. You're not your mother and I won't - I repeat - I  _ won't  _ let you leave me again!"

Neil gave his body a quick jerk. Billy felt his heart began to spasm as he was ground harder against the door. He wondered if this was it, if the old man had finally snapped. There was nothing that he could do as his breath left him and black circles began to ripple over his vision. Neil was strong, much stronger than him but then by some luck Billy noticed a weak point in his hold. Billy spun around, but he was still too slow. Neil caught him by the neck and slammed the back of his head against the door. They were facing each other now and what Billy saw in Neil's eyes scared him. Neil was no longer in the present. He was far gone, his pupils dilated beneath the image of his wife walking out the door and leaving them behind.

"Let me go," Billy said in a voice so quiet, so unlike him.

"Have you forgot your manners, boy?"

Billy struggled then. He struggled in a way that was rare and degrading to him. He knew what Neil wanted him to say but he'd be a coward if he were to do it. A coward and a bitch. He could feel Neil's breath on his neck and his upper lip. He smelled like tobacco and, surprisingly, alcohol. It made him sick. The wolf within him stirred, begging to be set free from Neil's suffocating hold. But to fly or to fight, Billy didn't know. Though his bottom lip quivered, he forced himself to look Neil in the eye with all of the rage and hatred that he could muster.

And then he said, "Let me go, please... _ sir. _ "

Neil's face twisted in disgust and he shoved hin. Billy was up and running so fast that he didn't even hear the words that Neil called after him. He ran towards his car, stumbled in the dirt, and pitched forward over the glistening hood. Neil said something, something about his mother, but Billy didn't want to hear it. He threw himself into his car, turned the key in the ignition, and tore through the night. 

* * *

_ Dear Mom, _

_ Don't be surprised, but I'm following your advice. I found a pack in San Francisco that I want to join and I'm heading there tonight. Don't worry I have the gas money to make it. Also, I have a couple of  _ Clash  _ CDs to keep me going. I'll write you as soon as I get there. Figure I'll spend a year or two with them, see how I like it. I didn't know how to tell dad and I figured saying, 'hey, your son's actually a teenage werewolf' wouldn't be a good start to the conversation so...I don't know. I'll let you figure it out, mom. You're better at these sort of things than I am. _

_ But anyway, tell him I love him. And I love you, too. You'll hear from me soon. _

_ The One and Only _

_ Steve Hairy-gnton. _

Steve ran his tongue along the edge of the envelope and pressed it down. He considered placing it beneath his mom's pillow but figured that his dad might accidentally stumble upon it. So instead he placed it in her jewelry box, the antique one that he had bought her for her birthday. It was God-awful ugly but he knew that she liked those sort of things. He still remembered how her eyes had lit up when she pulled it up from tacky wrapping paper. She claimed that it was of the rarer, by name only sorts but he had copped it at the thrift store for five bucks. He placed the envelope on top of dusty old jewelry and pictures of him as a baby with his father. The confused and sort of 'am I a bad-ass?' look that his father wore in every picture struck a cord in him. But it was living under his parents' wings until college verses a rougishly independent life with Hargrove. It was a tough decision but the idea of ultimate freedom and constant sex with Billy always won him over in the end. 

He shouldered his bag and crept down the stairs, turning off lights as he went. His parents assumed that he was going to that night's dance and thus had decided to treat themselves to dinner at a restaraunt. He hoped that his parting wouldn't hurt them too bad but, then again, they knew that he had a wandering soul.

He opened the door and was surprised to find Nancy standing there. It had begun to rain lightly and the cold mist made her hair stick to her cheeks.

"Oh - hi!" She said. 

"....hi."

"You just now heading to the dance?" She tried to make her voice cheerful and carefree but her eyes conveyed a different story. They searched his face desperately, looking for an emotion unknown to Steve. It made him anxious, being looked at like that, and he desperately wished that she would just go. And yet, beneath the heartache masked by impatience, he knew that he was forgetting something. "I got other places to be," he said, much rougher than he had intended. 

"Okay." She pursed her lips and hunched her shoulders as if protecting herself from whatever look she had seen in his face. Then she blurted, "You weren't gonna ask me, were you? I mean, we're still technically boyfriend and girlfriend..."

Steve startled, as if from a reverie, and noticed, for the first time, the rouge on her cheeks and pale blue powder above her eyes. The dance! She was going to the dance and he hadn't even thought to ask her. Something about the way that she asked if they were still boyfriend and girlfriend made it seem as if she was hoping that the opposite was true.

"You okay?" She asked and squinted in confusion at the expression that crossed his face.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. It's just...when you asked if we're still boyfriend and girlfriend I thought I was Jonathan for a sec."

"That?" She rolled her eyes. "That's nothing, Steve. We're just…" Her words fell silent on her lips and she stared hopelessly at him. "Well, what do you want me to say? You're never around and when you are you're so silent....and distant...like you're mind's not even there. You know, I had started to wonder if  _ you  _ were seeing someone else!" 

"What? No!" It was his turn to stare hopelessly at her, for she had made a valid point. He hadn't made much of an effort to engage her or even seek her out in months. It was true: as she had sought out Jonathan in the void of their relationship he, too, had sought out somebody else. "You know what? Don't worry about it. You and Jonathan can have all the fun you want and you'll never hear from me again. Got it?"

"Steve....where are you going? Why do you have your bag with you?"

Steve turned around and began to walk backwards. He scrunched his bottom lip and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Have fun. Go to the dance. Whatever. I'm out."

"Steve? Steve!"

* * *

Billy was leaning against his car, hand cupped around a tiny orange flame. He didn't look up as Steve approached nor did he say anything as Steve set his bag down on the trunk of the vehicle.

"Well... _ tah-dah!  _ Don't get too excited to see me" Steve said because the silence was weird.

Billy pinched the cigarette between his fingers and swung his hand down to his side. A white vapour trail shot from the shadow of his mouth and dispersed into the pitiful glow of the single flickering street light. Steve wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a purple shadow blooming along the edge of his jaw.

"Hey, man…you al-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Billy sprung at him and wrapped his arms around his waist. For a brief moment, his feet dangled above the ground as Billy picked him up and gave him a vigorous shake before setting him back down. 

"Thought you were gonna wuss out on me, pretty boy."

"Nah, come on, we both know you need my pretty ass."

Billy smiled and bit his bottom lip in delight. He pulled Steve into a rough kiss, his fingers lost in the coils of Steve's hair. When he growled, it sent rumbles right through Steve's chest.

Steve pulled back, eyeing him hungrily, his cock already growing hard.

"Thought we were tryna get outta here. Where're the others?"

"Up ahead. Waiting for us. They can wait a little longer."

Billy swooped in to kiss Steve again but Steve stepped back in surprise. "Dude, what happened to your face?"

Billy caught Steve's wandering hand and pushed it aside. "Nothing."

"Did your dad hit you?"

"I said it's nothing. I'm fine."

But he wasn't fine. An image of Neil pressing him against the door flashed across Billy's mind and he winced.

"Son of a bitch.." Steve said and Billy shrugged, sniffed, and rubbed his nose.

"All the more reason to get outta here."

"Yeah…"

They stood for a moment in silence. Steve's eyes roamed across Billy's face anxiously and Billy stared at him level, the faintest hint of annoyance showing in his eyes. The moment became awkward and Billy turned abruptly and reached into his own car. When he turned around again he was holding a plastic-wrapped bundle of roses.

"For the lady," he said jokingly as he pushed the flowers into Steve's chest. He leaned in again, the plastic wrap crackling loudly between their chests, and kissed him. "You know, I was thinking, pretty boy…"

"Go on…" Steve was curious but he felt his heart dropping at the same time. He didn't like the disingenuous look in Billy's eye. And he  _ really  _ didn't like the bluish-black mark that Neil had left on Billy's face.

"Well, it's our last day in this shit town. Let's make it special, eh?" Billy's breath ghosted Steve's ear and he said, "How 'bout a bite?"

Steve jumped back so suddenly that even Billy flinched. Steve laughed awkwardly and swiped his hand across his upper lip where cold sweat had begun to gather. "We...we talked about this."  _ Please be joking, please say you're joking, please please please.  _

_ _ Billy's mouth cracked into a disproportionate smile. He laughed, Steve laughed, then Billy hooked his fingers in the fabric of Steve's shirt and lifted him, slightly. The roses dropped from his hands and hit the ground between their feet with a cacophony of crackling. Billy smashed his lips against his but Steve wasn't feeling it anymore. Steve pulled back, his face twisted in discomfort, and demanded that Billy let him go.

"You're really not joking, are you?" Steve said in dismay as he wiped a string of blood from his cheek. Billy had his thumbs hooked in his pockets. Shoulders hunched, eyes focused, he looked like a wolf waiting for his prey to make the wrong move. Steve backed away and moved to Billy's left, feeling it somewhat better to remain out of his direct line of sight. And still Billy's eyes followed him. His mouth remained set in a tight line. 

"Thought you loved me, pretty boy."

"I do-"

"So bite me. One. Last. Time."

_ Have you ever tried telling him no?  _ That's what Daniel had said. Steve steadied himself, looked Billy in the eye and said, "No."

Billy nodded. Steve couldn't tell if he was smiling or if it was just a trick of the shadows. Slowly, slowly, Billy bent down and picked up the bundle of flowers -

\- and smashed them in Steve's face.

" _ You're gonna take away the one thing that matters to me?! _ "

Steve was reeling. Billy's voice was like thunder in his ears. Before he could collect himself, Billy hit him again and again. The rose thorns were like shrapnel cutting red-hot x's into his face. He staggered back and Billy charged him, his fingernails quickly finding the flesh of Steve's neck. Steve could see nothing but Billy's wild eyes as he punched him repeatedly in the face. Steve raised his arms and braced his wrists over his eyes in a desperate attempt to block the blows. He wanted to cry out but blood gushed over his tongue and all he could do was sputter in pain. 

"You little bitch!" Billy punched him in the stomach and Steve heaved. " _ You! Little! Bitch! _ " Billy hit him in the eye and his vision went black. "You think I'm weak? Think I can't take it?! You just try and take everything from me!"

"Billy! I'm not your dad! I'm not your dad!" Steve cried out because he knew that Billy had gone to a different place. Though his knees pressed into Steve's side and his fingernails dug deep into Steve's scalp he was far away from him, in a place where Neil's shadow loomed and crackled, fetid, above everything that Billy held dear. Steve braced his palms against the wet earth and leveraged himself backwards from between Billy's legs. Billy's hands shot out and he caught Steve by the shoulders. His eyes were murderous as he leaned back and then, with the full force of his fury, slammed his forehead against Steve's.

That's when Steve lost conciousness.

When Steve opened his eyes again, Billy was still on top of him. Sweat - or spit - covered the side of his face. His knuckles grazed his messy mop of hair as he cocked his fist back. This time, Steve realized, he was set to kill.  _ It's now or never,  _ Steve thought. He caught the fist flying his way and jolted Billy's chin with an uppercut. Billy's head jerked back and Steve jumped up. Heart thumping, he planted his foot in the middle of Billy's chest and, with a quick shove, sent him tumbling backwards. 

"What is wrong with you, man?!" He shouted as Billy scooted away from him, a shocked look on his face. "You're using me! Is this why Daniel left you, huh? Did you use him, too?!"

Billy said nothing. In that moment, he looked to Steve like a wounded puppy alarmed by its surroundings. Billy grabbed the handle of his car door and lifted himself up as Steve watched in shock. Before he knew what he was doing, Billy had thrown himself into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition. 

"Sonofa-" Steve ran and hooked his fingers in the window frame. But the momentum was too much for him and, after being dragged along in the dirt for a few seconds, he was forced to let go. He fell backwards onto his ass and then quick as a flash stood back up again.

"I loved you," he cried out as he hurled broken rose stems at the retreating taillights. "I loved you, you fucking asshole!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: whyyyy is poor Steve always getting beaten up?  
Also me: writes about Steve getting beat up


	11. The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex, fangs  
A gunshot, Billy.  
This chapter's far  
From being silly.
> 
> Excuse any spelling errors, y'all. My vision's gone wonky from writing this story on my android phone.
> 
> Double update with the final chapter tonight. Gotta take a break then I'll upload in like an hour.
> 
> Point 11: Euphorila has been described in the werewolf community as being akin to a drug in its potency and effects.

Never before had Steve experienced such rage in his life.

He staggered all the way home that night, his mind a cacophonic mess replaying images of what Billy had done to him. When he finally reached his front doorstep he stopped and let his body fall against the polished wood.

"Fucking  _ asshole,"  _ he muttered between bloodied teeth then punched the door once, twice, three times before the neighbour's upstairs light flickered on. Steve forced himself to stuff his raw knuckles in his pockets and clench out a smile as a woman in pink rollers peered out of the window.

"Steve, is that you?"

"Just me, Ms. Zamora."

"Aren't you supposed to be at the dance?"

"Just...just left something at the house." 

She nodded. As soon as she drew her blinds, he punched the door again and glanced tepidly her way. There was a ringing in his ears that just wouldn't go away. He had left his car, his jacket, his house keys,  _ everything  _ on the road where he had met up with Billy. He inhaled loudly and wrung his hair through his fingers. He wanted to cry but he had to think. There had to be somewhere - better yet, someone that he could go to to help him dial down his feelings. At least for a while. But who? It was then that he realized just how lonely the life of a young werewolf really was and this panicked him. Billy had been his only way out. 

Fucking Billy…

A police patrol cruised by, its blue and red lights flashing decoratively. Steve watched it turn a corner down the road and knew what he had to do.

* * *

The station was still open when he arrived. He pushed the door open and his heart gave a start when he spotted the curly haired person reclining on the lobby couch.

"Billy?"

The person turned around and Steve recognized Miranda, a prostitute from That Side of Hawkins. She snapped her gum loudly and bared her crooked teeth.

"If that's who you want me to be," she hissed. The metal of her handcuffs jangled as she dragged her finger along the length of her thigh. "So pretty…look at that hair."

"Leave him alone, Miranda. You lookin' for Billy?"

Steve could not have been happier to see Officer Powell in that moment. He stumbled to the front booth and braced his hands against the desk. 

"N-no, I'm looking for Hopper. Is he here?

"Kid, what happened to your face?"

" _ Damn it, I just… _ " he sighed and forced himself to look away from Powell's intimidating mustache. "I really need to speak to him, okay... _ please _ ?"

Powell regarded him for a moment in bewilderment and then gestured at the open space behind him. "You know the way. You might wanna knock first."

Steve nodded his thanks and swung around the desk. "Did you see his face," he heard Miranda say as he walked down the hall towards Hopper's closed door. "I always knew the boy liked it  _ rough _ ."

Without knocking, he pushed the door open and ran chest first into the town's librarian. They both paused and regarded each other in surprise. 

"Steve!" She cleared her throat, glanced behind her at a slack-jawed Hopper, and then hurriedly fixed her skirt. "Well," she said, finally spying the bruises on his face, "I'll let you two get to it then!"

Hopper couldn't wait for her to close the door.

"What the hell, Harrington?"

"The librarian?" For the briefest of moments, Steve's anger disappeared as he took in Hopper's embarrassed face with amusement. "Isn't that a little, I don't know,  _ cliche?" _

_ _ "Isn't that word a little too, I don't know,  _ advanced  _ for you?" Hopper spread his giant hands out along his desk and fixed Steve with a pointedly confused stare. "Steve...what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the-"

"Dance, I know, where else would King Steve be if not at the dance?" Steve picked up Jim's coffee mug and pressed the cold porcelain against his swollen eye. 

"What happened to your face? Should I even ask what happened to the other guy? Steve," Jim said louder when he saw that Steve had no intention of speaking freely. " _ What. Happened? _ "

Steve let himself fall into the seat before Hopper's desk. He wanted to cry. The tears were building up again, but he'd be damned if he spent anymore time  _ boo-hoo _ ing over Billy. Not anymore. He was ready to do something and the desire for retaliation was already beginning to throb deep within him.

He moved the cup away from his eye and pressed it against his cheek. "I fucked up, Hop. Big time."

" _ Mmmm _ - _ hmmm _ . Go on."

He could hear Hopper lighting then taking a drag of a cigarette. The sound of it reminded him of Billy. He wondered where he was then and who he was with. Was he furious or defeated? Was he even alive after driving so recklessly in the rain?

"You know what, never mind. I should go."

"Steve, wait a minute, sit down."

Steve was crying again. He clenched his fingers in his hair allowed Jim to guide him back into the chair.

"I just…I  _ fucked  _ up, okay? I…have you ever met somebody that you were head over heels for and they turned out to be different than you expected?"

"Can't say I have." Hopper said. It was a lie. And they both knew it.

"I just put my trust in somebody and they broke my heart. You know, they were sick and hurting and they used me. They really messed me up, Hopper, and now I don't know what the hell to do."

"Did you hurt this person?"

"What? No. I mean I...it was in self-defense. God, it just happened so fast. I gotta go, I gotta think this one out-"

"Alright. Alright, Steve, hey, listen to me." Hopper closed his eyes and raised his palm between then, signalling for Steve to just be still for a moment. His eyebrows were knit in concentration because he didn't know what to do yet. Never before had he seen Steve so brutally and honestly upset. And never before had the Hawkins king come to him with his feelings written so plainly across his face. Steve had always been a race car fueled by tempestuous ego and gaiety, but never sadness. Hopper exhaled heavily through his nose.

"Alright, I lied. I used to know someone like that, long ago. She was a wolf who ran with my people when I was just about your age."

"And? What happened?"

"What happened was she was angry at the world, what it had done to her. And her anger caused her to last out and hurt a lot of people, Steve. I was one of them."

"So what did you do?"

"I…" Hopper sighed and looked away. He didn't like this. These were waters that he could not stand to tread with others, especially not Steve. "I let what had to happen, happen. I put her away so that no one else would get hurt. And then you know what I did?" He leaned in close, close enough for Steve to see the tiny hairs creased between his brow. "I forgot about it, I let it go, kid."

Steve nodded and sniffed. "Yeah, alright." He said and wiped away a line of snot with the back of his hand. "Can I go now?"

"Yeah. Yeah. You can go. But I want you to be careful. I don't know how many times I have to tell you-"

"I know. Don't be stupid. Don't do anything crazy. I got it."

"Steve?"

"What?"

"Full moon's tomorrow."

"How can I forget?" Steve mumbled, his hand already on the door.

"Where you gonna be?"

"Same place."

"Okay."

"....okay. See you later, Jim."

For the longest time, Jim simply sat, staring at the empty space where Steve had just been. He thought about Danny and it occurred to him that maybe Steve could have taken his advice the wrong way.

* * *

The next night...

Steve flexed his fingers on his steering wheel as he rode along the moonlit road. For once, his stereo was off and the only sound that he heard was that of the wind whistling through the crack in his window. The  _ euphorila  _ didn't feel good this time. In fact, he wasn't sure if he was even experiencing  _ euphorila _ at all. His skin tingled and twitched. His head throbbed. It was as if he were fiending for a drug with minimal promise. He didn't want to turn but he didn't have a choice in the matter. Suddenly he lashed out and hit the steering wheel with his fist. He hated himself and he hated Billy for making him feel like another weak link in the chain. How many had there been before him, he wondered, and how many would there be after? Poor, pathetic souls drawn to Billy's light, only to die out in his swelter.

He was stupid to fall for Hargrove. But he'd also be stupid to not do  _ something.  _

He thought about Hop: Hop with his angry eyes and meat slabs for fists.  _ I let what had to happen, happen. I put her away, Steve. _

It occurred to him that he should have asked how, exactly, Hop had 'put her away' and why he looked so uncomfortable when he said it. Could Chief Hopper have killed somebody? No, but there were many ways to destroy a person.

Could he destroy Billy?

An image of Billy's slit throat and panicked eyes crossed his mind and he swerved his car off of the road. He didn't know exactly where he was but he was far enough out. He couldn't bare sitting with the silence anymore so he threw himself out of the car and tossed his keys through the window. 

"Alright, come on big boy." He said, wiggling his fingers as he sloshed through the damp leaves. The wolf within awakened and yawned hungrily but he held it down. Up ahead he could just barely make out the four wooden walls of an old cabin that he used to explore when he was younger.  _ Perfect _ , he thought,  _ I'll just camp out there.  _ His plan was to barricade himself within the cabin and let the wolf ride out the night in shelter. He began to unbutton his shirt as he walked. His breath grew ragged and animal-like in his arousal and he fought to stay upright as his limbs tightened.

And then, when he was only a few feet away from the door, he saw him.

For a moment, Billy looked nervous to see him there. Then he pinched his cigarette out and looked Steve up and down with appreciation.

"Get away from me, Hargrove." Steve shrug his shirt from his shoulders and threw it to the side. Next, his fingers found his belt and he began to undo the clasp.

"You know, I've been thinking-"

" _ I said cut the crap and get away from me! _ "

"I love you," Billy grabbed his arms and pulled him close to his body. He was breathing heavily, wildly. His eyes were alight with hatred and lust. "I love you to  _ god damn pieces,  _ Harrington."

Steve's pants slid lower on his hips, exposing the tented grey fabric of his briefs. He shoved Billy away but Billy grabbed him again and held him so tightly that the smell of his breath made Steve gag. 

"Remember when I said you were beautiful?" Billy hissed. "Most beautiful god damn thing in the world."

He kissed him but it wasn't a kiss. It was a gnashing of teeth and catching of breath that hurt Steve to his very core. He jerked his head back with a gasp as the canines began to descend from his gums, forcing drops of blood to splash between them. 

"You know what you want to do."

Billy was pawing and grasping at Steve's erect cock. There was nothing that Steve wanted more than to submit to pre-transformation lust. He needed it, he needed Billy, he needed nothing else. He'd give the world just to cum with him again.

They struggled against each other for a moment before falling to the ground, Billy landing on top of him. Steve wriggled himself out of his pants and his cock, already wet and throbbing, popped out between them. Billy didn't hesitate. In a second he was out of his own pants. He smiled, shirt tucked behind his neck, and let Steve enter from beneath him. Steve wanted to give up and close his eyes but he didn't want to miss the sight of Billy: Billy's white teeth flashing as he ground them together, his hair falling along his shoulders as he bounced on top of him, sweat pooling along his upper lip, his reddening cheeks. Billy, Billy, Billy. Steve huffed in time with Billy's movements and ground his nails into Billy's soft hips, nails that had grown long and curved. He willed himself to stay human longer, just a little longer, until Billy hooked his fingers in Steve's hair and forced him to watch him cum. He then tossed his head back and let Steve aim for his chest, his broad chest glistening and illuminated by the moonlight and Steve's cum.

"I told you I love you, pretty boy."

Billy

Billy looked back down and his heart gave a jolt when he saw the way that Steve was staring at him. Hatred was written across every inch of Steve's face. And in that moment he saw himself: he saw the way that he must have looked when Neil cursed him out, he saw the look that he had given his mother as she had walked out, he saw the look that he gave coaches and teachers when they called him a 'problem,' a 'bad kid,' a 'bully.' It was the hatred of being helpless and Billy realized that, in some way, that's how he had made Steve feel.

He lifted himself off of Steve and dragged himself away slowly, his elbows inching through the mud. Steve began to convulse but his eyes remained fixed on Billy. And this scared him more than anything else.

"So I get it." Steve growled and spit at him. "That's what you do to the things you love, huh, you just break them?"

"Ease up, Harrington…"

"You know, funny thing is, Hargrove, I can break things, too."

Steve's face seemed to be engulfed by an explosion of fur and then he opened his yellow eyes. The Brown Wolf stood before him, shaking the wetness from its fur. Billy fell backwards and opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. He was no match, for already he knew that this would not be a night where he would turn. He clasped his hands and held them out to the wolf, his face twisted in fear.

"Please…"

The Brown Wolf licked its snout and growled, softly.

"Please...don't do this. Steve. When I said I loved you, I mean it. I wasn't just trying to get you to bite me. I really, really, really-"

The wolf sprang forward and caught Billy's leg in its jaw. Billy cried out in horror and rolled his eyes towards the moon. A loud ringing filled his ears and drowned out everything: the sound of his voice, the gnashing of the wolf, the skittering of leaves. Still screaming, he pushed himself back and away from the wolf. But the creature's body was heavier than he could have ever expected.

" _ No, no, NO, please!"  _ He cried as he grabbed the wolf by the ears and attempted to pull the head away. But the wolf's jaws had locked and its nose was crinkled in its determination to kill. The wolf momentarily let go and then bit down harder and higher on his leg, and Billy spasmed wildly against the pain.

"Mommy, mommy, mom, please help me," he cried deliriously. And then there was a loud  _ pop _ and the ringing returned, louder this time. The pressure on his leg lifted and, without quite knowing why, he covered his ears and pressed his face into the ground. A white light pulsed across his vision and he could just faintly make out the sound of a voice, muffled and alarmed.

He looked up into the bright light of the sun - was it the sun or the moon? - and could just barely make out a silhouette.

"Mom?" He mouthed tonelessly.

The figure looked away and then back at him. They were saying something. He desperately searched their face for that familiar old smile and for a second he really thought that he could see her. But it wasn't her. The figure leaned in closer and eyes came sharply into focus.

"Chief Hopper?" He said and then a wave of pain rolled over him and he blacked out. 


	12. ...at last, Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Point Twelve: 
> 
> A Story Often Told to Young Werewolves by their Elders as a Reminder of the Importance of Joining a pack or Finding a Mate:
> 
> There was once a Blond Wolf who carried scars beneath its magnificent fur. All those who saw him drew close, enchanted by the light in his fur. But when they came too close he grew angry and snapped at them, afraid that they may see his scars. Until one day he met a Brown Wolf who, like the others, drew close. But it was a strange thing: the Blond Wolf found himself enchanted by the Brown Wolf's boldness. They drew closer and closer together until the Blond Wolf became alarmed and snapped at the Brown Wolf.  
"You, like the others, have come to see what's beneath my beautiful fur!" The Blond Wolf said.  
"Of course I have!" The Brown Wolf responded and the Blond Wolf chased him away.
> 
> Years later, the fur fell from the Blond Wolf's shoulders, so stressed was he by his endeavour. When he was only scarred skin and bones, the Brown Wolf returned and gazed upon him.  
"Now you see what's beneath my beautiful fur," the Blond Wolf sighed.  
"Yes. And I know now that you truly are the most beautiful wolf in the world."  
The blond fur grew back in magnificent tufts. And the two wolves tread the same paths forever.

Berkeley Sanctuary, six months later...

"To your left."

The elder werewolf gestured sarcastically with his hand and Billy followed his directions down the hall. He could feel his eyes following him, could feel the resentment in the air. He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and hunched his shoulders beneath his new leather jacket. 

The hallway opened out into a balcony overlooking the first floor. He stopped short of the dusty railing and looked out over the edge. Below, in the center of the room, two people sat at a small round table covered in papers. Steam wafted from the mugs between them. They looked peaceful, happy even. He didn't need to ruin that.

"I have to go-"

"Don't be a puppy," the elder werewolf jabbed a finger in his chest. "I've studied your lineage for years, boy. Your mother was Alisson Hargrove, right?" The elder wolf sucked his teeth as he looked Billy up and down. "Would she be ashamed of what you've become?"

Billy stared at him for a moment in disgust and then flinched away. He turned away from the elder and began the slow, laborious descent down the staircase. The sound of his crutch hitting the thin metal slats made the two people at the table turn their heads and stare at him.

It was the longest descent of his life.

He stopped, breathing heavily, and stood awkwardly before them. 

"You look good," he finally said.

"Wish I could say the same for you." Steve said back.

Billy nodded and shifted his eyes. He didn't want to see Steve's bruised eye and stitched lip. It made him feel guilty, reminded him of why they were all there. Hopper sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"You sure you wanna do this, kid?" He said to Steve.

"What am I, 19 years old? Come on, give me a break, Jim."

" _ Hopper. _ "

" _ Hopper,  _ alright."

Hopper sighed and lifted himself out of the chair, with all the weight of a man who had seen too much and lived a thousand lives over. He passed Billy and it was the first time that they had seen each other in months. The look that he gave him was unfriendly but not completely unwelcoming. Which was a look that Billy was used to. Hopper began to walk, stopped as if he wanted to say something, and then shook his head. He let his hand fall on Billy's shoulder and then retreated down the hall, whistling to himself.

And then, it was just him and Steve and the yawning silence of the sanctuary. 

Billy shrugged forward and lowered himself into the chair before Steve gingerly. His leg still hurt but it was admittedly getting better with Susan's mandated physical therapy. He leaned back and surveyed Steve openly, if not a little guardly and Steve surveyed him right back.

"Alright, spit it out. What are you here for?"

Billy looked up and around at the sanctuary's interior. Because he did not like the sudden wave of emotion that overtook him then. He had long since convinced himself that he didn't really care for Steve, but…

"How much longer you in this shit hole for?"

Steve shrugged and poked out his bottom lip. "Who knows?" Billy watched as Steve attempted to lift his mug with one hand. The other lay limp on the table, his elbow hidden beneath a sling. Someone had taken a blue Sharpie and clumsily written 'if you're reading this, give the man a beer' along the edge. "They're doing this little thing called,  _ uh _ , deliberation. Trying to figure out if what I did was in self defense."

"Hm." Billy tossed his chin and bit the inside of his lip. He wanted to smoke.

"You know I told them what I had to. Not...everything. But just enough to make them think we're not the bad guys. Just...collateral damage in a confusing world. You know, emotions running high and all." Steve traced circles along the table, twisted his face, scratched his nose. And, watching him, Billy knew that he still felt something for him. It was the smallest things: the crescent of his fingernail, the slight part in his full lips, the lowered eyes, the way that he sat like he owned the chair that he was in. "What about you, what'd you tell your folks?"

"Told them it was a wild animal attack, per big man's orders." Billy tossed his head in the direction that Jim had left. "Speaking of ol' fat ass, how'd he know where we were that night?"

"Old man's got intuition. He knew I was freaking out the night before. So he followed me up to the usual place. Saw us fighting and then..." Steve cocked a finger gun at his bandaged arm and pretended to fire a round. "Here I am."

"Here you are." Billy rolled his tongue along his lip and lowered his gaze because Steve was watching him with something akin to a smile on his face. There was an utter and strange mystery about Steve, something that could only be broken once and then hidden away. He folded his hands and set them on the table between them. 

"Just say it, you hate me."

Steve leaned in to him. "Is that what you came here for? To hear me tell you something you already know?"  _ Ouch,  _ Billy thought. He hadn't expected him to be so blunt about it. "I hate you," Steve said, leaning back again. "You know, I really can't stand seeing your ugly mug right now. But I also loved you...at a certain point. And, I don't know, I feel like that counts for something."

Steve

"Well I guess you can say that we're even now, huh, pretty boy? I bit you first time we met, and now here we are. You bit me, almost took out my entire leg."

Billy leaned back and smiled. He was comfortable now, Steve could tell. It must have been something that he said. Oh, how Steve had come to adore and loath those perfect, snow-white teeth when Billy flashed then. He caught himself smiling despite himself and quickly took a sip from his mug to hide it.

"So were you really crying for your mom when Hopper found us?"

"No." Billy said, as if the possibility was too unfathomable to even joke about. "Were you really gonna kill me if Jim hadn't stopped you?"

"No." Steve said, as if  _ that  _ was too unfathomable to even think about.

"Huh. Okay. So here's what I'm thinking, Harrington. The boys and I are packing up and shipping out to San Francisco. Gonna get a little place out by the water, roam around a bit. If that sounds like something you'd be into…" he nodded at the space surrounding them, "when you get out, come find me."

They both stood up and clasped hands over the table. They lingered for a moment, hands held together and eyes locked in an unfamiliar mold. 

_ You wanna kiss me _ ? Steve's eyes said.

_ Right here, right now _ . Was Billy's response.

But instead Billy pursed his lips, leaned back, and picked up his crutch. 

"See y'around, Harrington." He called over his shoulder as he limped away. It was as good as an apology that Steve would ever get.

"Yeah...see ya."

The door to the sanctuary shut and Steve was enveloped in silence. A few minutes passed, then he could hear Hopper's whistling growing louder above him. 

"Hey, Hop," he called out, suddenly remembering something. "What's the status on Henderson's lineage?"

"Henderson, Henderson…." Hopper mumbled as he rifled through the pages of an old binder. "Nope, he's not one of us. Why?"

"Just...curious," he said quickly. He wondered how he'd be able to untangle himself from that mess. 

Billy

Once outside, Billy reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette with a shaking hand. He tried to light it but his fingers were too sweaty and he kept missing the catch.

"Stupid piece of shit!" He cursed and flung the lighter away from him.

"Ooh, so angry." A female voice said from behind him. He spun around and saw a woman leaning against the wall, lit cigarette in hand. "I like it. The world could use more angry werewolves like you."

She was his mother's age and pretty in slinky, no-good sort of way. He'd always liked them older and he especially liked her as she sidled up to him and cupped his cigarette beneath her palm.

"Name's Danny. I heard so much about you." She said as she lit his cigarette. The reflection from the tiny flame lit up her eyes and she smiled. "We should talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wait what, we're done? Story's over?! WE'RE FINISHED!?
> 
> NoOoOoOoOoOoOo....
> 
> But seriously guys, thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with this story. The comments, kudos, and hits mean a lot to me and I'm super glad you guys enjoyed it. I will definitely be putting more Harringrove stuff out so keep an eye out. I'd love to make a part two of this story where we find Steve working/living at the sanctuary until a rogue Billy pairs up with Danny and recks sh*t around town (featuring the mindflayer?) 
> 
> But who knows.
> 
> The line 'eyes locked in an unfamiliar mold' was taken from Dacre Montgomery's poetry podcast (I believe the poem is called 'Valentine.')

**Author's Note:**

> Looking back, I definitely got Hemlock Grove vibes from my own story. Would have loved to do a crossover featuring Peter and Steve but I'm not sure if there's an audience for that.


End file.
